


The Rainflower Game

by KinuNishimura



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Bone Spider?!, Child Abuse, Depression, Homelessness, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Mystery, POV First Person, Parent-Child Relationship, Past Sexual Abuse, Politics, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Horror, Science Fiction, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Too Many Gundam References, Trans Characters, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2020-11-01 07:22:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 30
Words: 200,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20811269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KinuNishimura/pseuds/KinuNishimura
Summary: An original 'deadly game' mystery work in the vein of stories like Saw, the Zero Escape series, Danganronpa, etc.Thirteen people awaken in a vast mansion on an uninhabited island, with no memories of how they arrived. Their charge is to participate in a game- one which will delve into their pasts, unearth their hidden sins, and render judgement upon them, to be consumed by their sins or rise above.This is the story of a nameless samurai amidst a field of flowers.





	1. Prologue ~ Perfect Slumbers

There was a heavy smell of smoke and ash in the air, to those who could still breathe. Someone, who knew who by this point, had started a fire earlier during the night, and it had quickly grown into a blaze, tearing through the walls of the opera house amidst the carnage and leaving the building a shambles of its former self.

That was most of what Kyosuke Ayana could remember, or even understand, about the situation. He was in pain. His lungs were in pain, probably from the smoke- and his body was in pain, from the rubble he was trapped under- and he could swear one of his arms was burning by this point.

His upper body was all he could move, and though it was incredibly hot, red-orange flowers sprouting all across the stage and bringing more choking black as they did, human survival instinct meant he had to do something. Each time he did, though, his face landed in another puddle of blood, the viscera of yet another person that he _recognized-_ that was one of the makeup artists, an understudy, someone from the lighting rig-

In all, it was such an overwhelmingly horrible sight that Kyosuke couldn't bring himself to fully register it. He just had to escape under this rubble before he died. He couldn't die. He was only seventeen, after all, he had so much to live for. Surely, someone had escaped and called firefighters by now, and the carnage itself had died down simply because nobody but him seemed to be left-

-and then Kyosuke's eyes happened to fall upon the bodies of two very familiar middle-aged folk, sitting there at the edge of the stage. He would never mistake those two. His father, other than the gaping head wound that looked as though it had shattered his skull, lay limp at the edge of the stage, and his mother, though he couldn't see what had killed her, lay half-slumped over the edge of the railing.

“...aaaa...aaaahhhh...” Breathing hurt, but it was a natural human instinct to scream at something like this. “Ah, ahhh, aaaaaahhhh...”

Help. Someone, help. Please. Help me.

“N-Nagisa...” Kyosuke cried, his tears quickly evaporating in the heat. “Nagisa... someone, anyone, help me!” His voice was a sickly-sounding croak as it forced itself out of its throat. “Help! Help me, _please!_” He had always been proud of that voice- and everyone else had, too. Now it was just a little sound like that? It was almost funny, in a macabre, ghastly sort of way.

Then Kyosuke noticed

someone.

Among all the corpses, among the flames, there was someone standing there, in the front row. Not dead, simply still, stock still, standing there, looking up at the stage. His vision was blurry, so he couldn't make out many more details, but to be sure, he saw that person breathing just slightly, that telltale sign that this person was alive and just standing there--!

“_Help me! Please!_” Kyosuke called. He didn't know who this person was, or even if they really could help him. “Please, go-” He gritted his teeth as the rubble shifted slightly, crushing him even more. “Whoever you are, I don't care, please just help me! Please! Help-” And he devolved into coughing.

But the person did not move. They stood there, unmoving, staring up at the stage.

And as the distortion from the heat cleared, and Kyosuke's vision began to fade-

He saw there was a vacant little smile on their face, as they stood there, uncaring of the flames.

* * *

My hand twitched on my wooden sword as I opened the door to the apartment. It was, to be frank, a nervous reaction- not that I noticed anything particularly off that day, but simply because I was a little twitchy whenever I was outside, alone. Mai had opted to stay home, and that was her prerogative, and I would never blame her for that, but nevertheless I did become somewhat twitchy.

With a click, the apartment opened- a routine that became commonplace faster than I’d expected it to. I opened the door to find the place mostly dark aside from a single light from a lamp in the center of the living space. “Oh,” Mai said, “you're home!”

An open book sat on the table, and next to the table, so too sat the girl to whom I'd devoted my life. Mai Orihara smiled brightly upon seeing me, and stood up to greet me. Her eyes glowed in the low light. With light, feminine movements, she stood up from her chair such that it hardly moved and hurried over to grasp me in a tight hug, her head burying itself in my chest. “I would never leave you alone,” I said. Then I chuckled. “Now can I turn on a light?”

“If you've got to.” Mai's voice was always a bit light, but she pouted just a little cutely as I turned on the lights.

“I never really understand how you can manage in such low light.” I said, putting down my sword on its holster and removing my hoodie. “It's astonishing.”

“Well... you know.” Mai blushed, and I ruffled her hair. I knew. Even if we didn't keep the blinds closed most of the time, it was harder to see into the apartment with low light, and Mai didn't like people seeing in. She was nervous. Understandably so- she, while not a household name, was reasonably famous. People would likely react... strangely. She'd wondered sometimes if that was why I kept the sword around.

It was convenient, yes- people didn’t tend to attack when they saw a weapon at your hip, but mainly I simply didn't feel comfortable without it. I began to put away the groceries except for the supplies for dinner I'd bought- nothing special, and it didn't need to be. “Yamada-_san_...” Mai said, shadowing me as I walked around the apartment. “Er, how was your trip out?”

I giggled. Despite how long we'd been together, Mai was still nervous about using my first name out of the blue. “It was fine. I didn't run into anyone in particular, and I made a solid few words with the cashier. We joked a touch about the weather, and the latest baseball games.”

“Oh?” Mai said, her eyes widening a little bit. “How were the latest baseball games?”

“You were next to me as I watched them.” I pointed out, smiling.

“W-well...” Mai stammered. “I, er-”

“Fell asleep,” I finished for her, “from a long day of work, allowing me to continue my own watching until I did so as well?”

“I swear I'm a good girlfriend who takes interest in the same things you do,” Mai said, a bit of a nervous look on her face.

“You're a busy woman with a hard-hitting, intellectual trade,” I said, still smiling, chopping up the cucumbers. “If you're going to be embarrassed about that, then I might as well be embarrassed every time I...” I paused. “Wait.”

“Listen, I know I'm nervous.” Mai said. “I am. But how am I supposed to compare to someone like you, Yamada-_san_? You make the food, you...” She twiddled her thumbs, and her feet clacked together.

I stopped for a moment when I could, and leaned over to put my forehead on hers. “You,” I said, “are the brains of this operation, and don't ever pretend you're not. I'm just glad I can live in service to you, Mai.”

“A-ah...” Mai blushed, as she usually did when I busted out that sort of line. It was true- for all of my capability, which was by no means limited, Mai was the true visionary, and it was thanks to her more than anyone that we had this life for ourselves. ...Maybe she was blushing looking at my face? She told me, sometimes, that I was quite a good-looking person, but I had always considered myself rather plain. “Oh! I came up with something new!”

A magician never reveals her secrets, so I was the only one allowed to know the inner workings of Mai Orihara. People amazed, and delighted, in her work, but only I was allowed to know the person behind these tricks. Her voice filled the apartment with an unabashed glee as she explained to me her genius, as I calmly continued my work.

Soon, the two of us found each other on the sofa again, turning on the television and letting whatever the channels pleased come on. At some point, this sort of thing had become commonplace. When had the two of us gone from friends to lovers, I wondered? It was the most natural thing in the world, to the point where I was unsure that there was even a true tipping point. “Mai?” I said, as I felt her drifting off in my arms. I was taller, so she liked to curl up in me.

“Mmhm?” Mai asked, her voice a little sleepy.

“You are a beautiful young woman,” I said, “and I'm glad to be able to spend my life in your name.”

“Don't be so dramatic.” Mai grumbled. “Thank you, I mean, but... well, I'm not—” Then she stopped herself. She had some gripes about her own appearance, but that was an avenue that would just lead to playful teasing and back-and-forth. “In 'our' name.”

I smiled, and held her just a little bit tighter. “Alright. In our name.”

“...Yuki,” She said, nuzzling into me in return. “Let's stay together forever.”

“You and I will never be apart,” I responded. “I'll promise you this as many times as it takes.”

Mai sighed. “You're being dramatic again.”

This was our life. One night was similar to any other, and that was all that either Mai Orihara or Yuki Yamada wanted. We were happiest here, in this world built for two, beneath the stars.


	2. Thirteen Sinners, 1 ~ The Mansion on the Beach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To start off the story proper, I'll inform you that a Discord for my works in general can be accessed at https://discord.gg/YwtWWjW if you'd like to talk about the story.

The sun crested over the horizon, shining its light in a dazzling gleam across the surface of the water. As far as the eye could see, the darkness of night began to give way to beautiful, glowing greens and blues, washing in and out as the gentle tides lapped at the sand on the beachside. Birds began to call, bugs began to chirp, as the quiet dark gave way to the early-morning cacophony that signaled the world at its most pure. Trees near the beach waved gently in a slight breeze, and the grasses and flowers created brilliant dioramas of color.

No human laid eyes on this sunrise, as none were present to do so. After all, all present humans were still asleep as the sun rose, until a gleam of light came in through one window to wake someone up.

Filtering through the blinds, a sunbeam hit the first to wake's eyes- she had always been fairly jumpy when it came to waking up, on account of a bad habit, in high school, of oversleeping past alarms. As such, her body had become accustomed to doubting herself at the slightest sign of morning. With a yelp, she flung herself up in her bed, shaking her head every which way.

“OH GOD WHAT TIME IS IT?” she asked no one, even when not in this circumstance, because she lived alone anyway. “I'm gonna be late I'm gonna be late I'm gonna be late shit shit shit shit shit shit-”

Then, this woman stopped, and realized, at last, that this room was not hers, most particularly because her room did not have a window that could let a sunbeam through to hit her eye like that. “...Huh?” She blinked, and registered the space around her after putting on her glasses, which were thankfully there on her nightstand.

This room was, in fact, quite nicer than her actual room- there were fewer discarded cartons of instant noodles that had sadly fallen out of a trash can she had not yet managed to take out. As opposed to her hard, wooden floor, this was nicely carpeted, very plush. Two doors, one outward, one inward. With a few tasteful flower decorations, as well as, to her eyes, much of her own belongings, like her posters, figurines, Blu-rays and DVDs-

There was an easy way to check, so she rubbed the eyes and headed over to her model of the Gundam Maxter, craft of America's Gundam Fighter, Chibodee Crockett. (While he was not her favorite character from _Mobile Fighter G Gundam_, he was close, especially on account of the fact that both of them were deathly terrified of clowns.) She closed one eye as she stared, a tic that did little to actually improve her vision, but she had developed the habit anyway. Ah, yes, there was a little chip on one of his boxing gloves- it was a mistake, but she thought it improved the definition of the boxing glove, though perhaps that was just her making lemonade out of her own lemons.

So, that was, to be certain, _her_ Gundam Maxter, and nobody else's, which meant that however she had gotten into this room, they had also taken some, not all, but some, of her possessions. She imagined, perhaps, a kidnapping, a ransom? But no, the only person who would pay money for these things as a ransom would be, well, herself, and she was also here- and she knew of nobody who would pay ransom for her safety, in particular.

The blasted strangeness of this situation gave rise to requiring routine, so this woman, in this room, painted evenly in ways she'd have liked to do her own, with nice, clean, useful furniture, went to this dresser which was not hers and pulled out clothes that might have been hers, but may have simply looked similar before she noticed that this room was also equipped with its own bathroom, with sink, toilet, mirror, bathtub, shower, all much nicer than her own as well.

Mutely, she took her regular early-morning shower, with bathing products that were not her own and were certainly above her pay grade from the look and feel of them, letting hot water fog up the glass of the shower just a touch before she left. Perhaps the con she'd meant to visit was performing some sort of hazing ritual? Or a cult, perhaps, maybe she'd been kidnapped by a cult for a blood sacrifice? Or maybe, just maybe, maybe she had been granted a room by a dying, wealthy billionaire and she'd just forgotten about it from the unreality of it.

...That was unlikely. She was popular with men at work, sure, but not that popular. She simply wasn't that special. But the blood sacrifice seemed reasonable- they probably liked O- blood. She wondered what kind of dark god might be summoned from her blood.

For the record, very little of this is embellishment. This is actual information I've learned regarding how she awoke.

The bathroom mirror was nice, but her room proper had a full-length mirror, so she adjusted herself into her regular workplace casual. **Juri Sonohara**, twenty-four years old, stood in her usual grey pencil skirt and grey vest atop a white shirt, on white, functional heels. The most striking thing about her uniform was her tartan, red-and-green tie, the only accessorizing she allowed herself on the regular.

With a plain, blunt cut of brown hair tied up into a functional bun, eyes which matched her hair behind large, circular glasses, thin eyebrows, small lips, a small nose, and somewhat tan skin that had received the light of many outdoor cons when she'd gotten the chance, while she was rather tall for your average lady of the office, Juri was the sort of attractive that many of her coworkers tried to hit on, but that nobody had any particular standout features to mention aside from her particularly slim figure, which was in fact a symptom of a poor diet more than anything else.

Juri couldn't find her suitcase or cell phone, so on the very off chance she stepped outside and needed to get to work, she quickly walked out of the room to see where in the city she actually was.

It became very quickly obvious to her that she was not, in fact, in the city. She awkwardly slunk back into her room and removed her heels, putting on sandals instead.

She stood upon a wooden deck, the sun bright in her eyes, brilliant, blue sky with the occasional cloud visible through the cross-pattern wooden roofing. Three patio chairs, with matching parasols, and a total of thirteen chairs sat atop the deck. Behind them, past the wooden railing, were two stairwells at either side of the deck, leading down to a scenic beach with glistening blue-and-green ocean as far as the eye could see. There was another stairwell to Juri's left which led away from the beach to another side of the building, presumably. Behind her was the door she had just exited, and on that same wall were four other doors- one just next to hers, perhaps a neighboring room, a central door of a different make that likely went inside the building, and two doors mirroring hers and the neighbor's on the other side of the deck.

“Huh.” Juri said. She idly reached up to her belly button, a gesture I'm told is her making sure of another possible situation, but she still possessed one. Then she closed her eyes for a good few seconds, counting out her breaths as she did. When she opened her eyes, nothing had changed.

“...Ah.” This was the point when Juri finally began to regain feeling in her brain. “Ah, aaaaah, aaaa_aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh_?!” It was not as loud as she could have screamed, but it was quite loud.

* * *

On the opposite side of the building, on a deck that was the spitting mirror image of the one Juri had found, a second person had left his deck and gone down onto the beach. Since it was sand, he didn't wear anything on his feet, just his bare soles. There were much more regrettable circumstances one could wake up to than finding oneself on a beautiful beach like this, after all.

Stretching and letting out a breath, breathing in air that was probably the cleanest he'd _ever_ breathed, was a lean young man in a purple jumpsuit. He took a sip of a glass of juice he'd grabbed from a cooler on the deck- grape, his favorite- and took in the fact that, on this beach, there happened to be a number of amenities, such as several towels on racks for open perusal, some beach chairs waiting to be set up near the deck, and most importantly, there was a stand with a non-zero number of gaudily designed surfboards present.

Though this situation was, naturally, terrifying, **Minato Kuromatsu** couldn't stay sad when he had something like that on hand. He headed over and lifted one of the surfboards- it was just the right size, composition... this was a damn good board, one he definitely wouldn't mind taking for a swing. Not in his jumpsuit, though. One did not surf in a jumpsuit, usually.

That was when Juri screamed from the other side of the building, and Minato pivoted on his heel. Not the sort to just not go investigate a scream, he began to run back towards the deck, and happened to just meet another person quickly opening their door.

With a concerned look on his face, a tall, light-skinned man stood in the doorway. Short, dark brown hair and bright blue eyes, he had a sort of rugged-looking face, with some noticeable stubble on it, and one or two small scars. Not bulky, but definitely looked like he could hold his own in a scrap pretty well. He wore a matching set of jacket and pants, white and blue, with a black undershirt beneath the jacket. People often told him that he had very nice eyelashes.

Minato stopped, and tapped his left temple with his index finger, a tic which signaled confliction for him. On the one hand, that scream had just happened. On the other hand-

“No fucking way.” Minato blinked, staring, wide-eyed. “A-are you _Wataru Nishikiyama_?”

**Wataru Nishikiyama** blinked, raising his eyebrow. To him, he had just opened the door to find a short young man, with dark skin, violet eyes, and a mop of shoulder-length shaggy brown hair streaked with some blue highlights, stop in his tracks upon seeing him. With a quick scan, the man's purple jumpsuit had a number of logos on it along with its many pockets, like... grenades, anarchy symbols, waves, the sun- it was a very decorated jumpsuit. He had a silver ring on his right hand with a weasel design, and his ears had a number of gold rings in their tops, with sickle-shaped earrings hanging down from his earlobes. Generally soft-skinned, but with obviously callused hands.

“...Yeah?” Wataru said. He nodded.

“No _waaaay!_” Minato squealed. His voice was fairly high-pitched. “Dude, my friends are gonna be so jelly!” He hopped up and down, not bothering to hide his enthusiasm. “Like, _the_ Wataru Nishikiyama! In my face!”

Though his surprising newfound fame was no doubt something of an ego boost for Wataru, he said, “Hey, listen-” He raised his finger.

“Minato!” Minato beamed.

“Minato,” Wataru continued, “someone just screamed.”

This gave Minato pause, as he stopped and realized that he had gotten awfully caught up in himself there. “Sorry,” he said, and nodded towards the stairwell that would take them off the deck.

Unsurprisingly, given his longer legs, Wataru was the faster of the two, but they ran down the stairwell along the grass next to the building, passing a number of brilliantly-colored flowers as they did. The walls were smooth plaster, with a number of windows built in.

Curving around the corner and ignoring the building's front for now, they came to the deck on the opposite end of the building. Here, they came to Juri, clutching her head and hyperventilating on one of the patio tables- and now, too, there was a fourth person, pouring the both of them some water in glasses on a mirror image cooler, ice clinking in the glasses.

“Take a breath,” this fourth person said, with a concerned gaze towards Juri. “You're alright.”

“Okay, listen, I know you're trying to say that because you're being nice,” Juri said, “but I'm kind of having a panic attack over here because I have no idea where I am, so I don't think I'm actually alright, you know?” She unsteadily, but quickly, grabbed her glass and took a long drink of cold water. “Ah, ahhhh...” She breathed. “Oh god. Just gimme a second.” When she heard Wataru's foot make a creak on the wooden stairs, she jumped again.

“No danger.” Wataru raised his hands. “Just as confused as you are.” Minato was looking around the deck, noting that it was in fact a mirror image.

This second woman smiled awkwardly, rubbing the back of her head. She looked- not too much older, but a little older than the three of them, with a long head of orange, wavy hair. Next to the rail-thin Juri, her fairly lush figure was a striking contrast. Her eyes were small, the sort which seemed to always be at least a little lidded, but beneath those lids, they were a pale grey. Beige skin, and surprisingly glossy nails for someone with the sort of homey air she gave off. She wore a light, pink ribbed sweater beneath a white apron, and a pair of blue jeans. She, too, had had the good sense to take off her shoes.

“Thank you,” she said, chuckling. “You both really came running! How responsible.”

“I just woke up by myself at a beachside mansion,” Wataru said, sitting down at the patio table. “I'm just glad I'm not alone, honestly.”

“It's an... odd circumstance, yes.” This woman nodded. “Odd.”

“Okay,” Juri said, taking a few breaths in, “Um.”

That was when Minato called over from the cooler. “They've got a lot in here,” he said, “y'all want anything?”

Once drinks were served and the four were sat around a patio table, Juri had calmed down sufficiently to say, “Uh, sorry, I.” She shook her head a little. “You know, it's kinda...”

“Oh, I'm scared,” Wataru said, a flat look on his face. “But freaking out doesn't do yourself any good.” He shrugged. “So. I'm gonna go out on a limb and assume you all don't remember coming here either?” There were no words of dissent from the other three at this table. “Right. So, likeliest thing is we've been kidnapped. I guess.”

“You know,” Minato said, leaning back in his chair a little, “spending my day off at a place like this doesn't sound too bad. Kinda wish they'd asked, though.”

“Non-consensual vacations are an interesting concept,” Wataru said, steepling his hands.

“'Non-consensual vacations' are called being fired,” Juri responded. That got Minato to laugh, and Wataru chuckled too.

With that said, Wataru said, “Well, in the interest of politeness,” and he looked around and smiled a bit. “I'm Wataru Nishikiyama.” With a light grin, he went into much more formal tone of voice. “Twenty-four years old. I'm a Leo, blood type B-”

“Oh, come on, everyone knows who you are!” Minato snorted.

“I've never heard of him,” The orange-haired woman said, and that got a fervent nod of agreement from Juri.

“-and I can think of absolutely no reason why anyone would kidnap me in particular unless they were really into sabotaging stock car races,” Wataru concluded. “There are much cooler and more important people to kidnap, I'm a weird choice.” He shrugged.

“Juri Sonohara,” Juri said. “And, uh... same here?”

“Lemme guess-” Minato grinned, leaning in and shooting a fingergun. “Henpecked OL?”

“You're right, but you shouldn't say it.” Juri's face fell a bit, and she gave Minato a withering stare. “I mean, you know-” She regained a bit of her energy to continue. “I mean, I'm all for those moments reality sort of bends and becomes an anime for a second. That's fine. But it's like-” After gesticulating for a few more moments, she made a sound somewhere between a gurgle and a wail.

The orange-haired woman laughed. “I'm **Zoe Kitachi**.” Smiling at Wataru, she said, “Thirty-one years old. I'm an Ophiuchus, blood type AB, and I also can't think of any reason why anyone would kidnap me in particular.”

“Housewife?” Minato said.

Zoe turned to him, raising an eyebrow, and raised both of her fingers. “Do you see a ring here, sir?”

In response, Minato removed his own weasel ring, and in front of everyone, placed it on Zoe's right hand. Luckily, their fingers were about the same size. He grinned. “Yup. So tell us about your spouse!”

The ring forcibly changed hands again before Zoe said, “The apron was lying around in my room next to an easel. I'm not a painter by trade, but I dabble as stress relief, so our captors appear to have been kind in that regard.”

“And by trade?” Wataru asked.

“I'm a psychologist,” Zoe responded. “Though I'm not particularly renowned or anything.”

“Written any peer-reviewed papers?” Wataru asked. He put one leg up on the other.

“Oh, one or two.” Zoe shrugged. “And now I'm considering,” she said, turning her head to Minato, “trying to study people who go last in group presentations.”

“Aw, cut me some slack, Doc.” Minato laughed. “Everybody deals with stress in their own ways, yeah?” He smiled and took a sip of his juice, which was still grape. “Minato Kuromatsu. I'm a vehicle repairman, mostly on military vehicles but I do plenty.”

“Yup, that explains it.” Wataru nodded. “Watching for the cars, right?”

“I could talk your ear off about the underlying appeal of the inner workings of a race car,” Minato said, leaning over and putting his shoulder on the table, “but you drive the things for a living, so I'm sure you get at least _some_ of it.”

“Hey, Dr. Kitachi, you said you were a psychologist, right?” Juri chimed in, tilting her head a little to place her chin on her fist and make a vaguely displeased face.

“If you're going to ask what it is about boys and their _cars_,” Zoe responded, “I really wish I could tell you.” She looked awfully bemused herself.

“I mean, it's not just cars. Bikes are great, too! Motorcycles, airplanes... I'd love to get my hands on a Gundam or something like that, too.” Minato laughed. Juri's breath hitched a touch, but he didn't notice. “It's just my natural curiosity, it's like... uhhh, 'Boys, be ambitious!' Like that guy.”

“William Clark,” Wataru said, and Minato clapped and said, 'that's the one!'

If I may editorialize a moment, I have to wonder sometimes what it is about dangerous situations like this that promotes this sort of small talk. I imagine it's something like a grasp at normalcy surrounded by the unknown.

Whatever the case may be, it appeared to have worked- the mood had visibly relaxed since Juri's panic attack, and to an outside viewer, it would appear that this motley crew was in fact enjoying a beach vacation. “Do you think there's other people inside those other two rooms?” Juri asked.

“Could be,” Wataru said. “That said...” He stood up, then, and politely put his chair back in. “I think I'm gonna go case around the joint. If you wanna wait for anyone else, feel free.”

“Are you certain that's a good idea?” Zoe asked. “There's the possibility that our captors have traps set up around the building, or something of that nature.”

“Well, if there's a landmine or something at the front of the beach,” Wataru said, smirking a little, “then I'm probably screwed anyway, so let's say it'll be educational.”

“That'd be really unceremonious,” Juri pointed out. “Like, why would they just do that after taking all the trouble to bring us here?”

Minato stretched, and let out a loud noise as he did. “Ahh, whatever. Man, but this place is seriously hella, though, right?” he said, standing up as well. “Like, at least they kidnapped us to somewhere that looks nice.” By this point, it was later in the morning, so the sky had grown to become its full brilliant blue. One thing they had noticed was that the air was not all that hot, and not nearly so hot as it would seem to imply with that bright sun. This place was perfectly temperate, which was fortunate, because sheer summer heat would be unfortunate given this group's out-of-season clothing- aside from Minato, who swore up and down that his jumpsuit was perfect year-round.

Aside from the thought of further danger, there were no objections to the idea of exploring a touch, so these four- Wataru, Juri, Zoe, and Minato- did a lap around the building. This beachside mansion appeared to have three proper floors and a smattering of chambers higher than that. In terms of architecture, this white-walled mansion with yellow accents was most decidedly contemporary Western, with windows visible on its exterior ranging from arched to rectangular to one particular sheer glass window that comprised an entire wall of the highest chamber of the mansion, a central chamber high above the rest of the building.

The landmass this mansion was built on appeared to be, improbably enough, a sandy peninsula- while there was a fair distance, still, after leaving the decks to the edge of the beaches, and the mansion itself sat atop a fenced-off area of land that separated its very near vicinity from the shore, it nevertheless gave the impression that those who had constructed this mansion intended it more for form than long-term viability. Rocks lay across the shores on a few steep cliffs scattered haphazardly, long since smoothed over by the tides. Grasses near the mansion, sitting atop no-doubt fertile soul, held a great variety of flowers, and at the back of the mansion-

While this is likely an exaggeration, I'm told that at this moment, it was like you could hear Juri's jaw dropping to the floor. Wataru, meanwhile, was quiet, standing in awe. “...Whoaaaaaaa!” Minato clapped a few times. “Look at _this!_”

Red, blue, green, yellow, magenta, cyan, white, black- this mansion stood in front of a great field of flowers, encompassing an incredible array of colors and shapes. Waving slightly in the breeze, a few petals came off and flew within the air. One, unfortunately, entered Juri's agape jaw, and she had a first-hand run-in with the unfortunate taste of certain flower petals, but this bout of physical comedy did little to take away from the majesty of the scene. Insects could be seen flitting about the flowers, and the noises of the ebb and flow of the water gave the whole thing something of an ethereal feeling.

Back behind the fences, away from the shore, was the unlocked entrance to a small storage shelter for sundries like tarps, rope, and whatnot. Near the flower field, there was a small back entrance to the mansion.

And finally, at the front of the mansion, the situation was finally more properly understood. While a path of land led onwards from the mansion to another few buildings that could be seen in the distance, so this mansion was not completely isolated...

This was, to be sure, an _island_, and not a large one. This land encompassed some of what the eye could see, but past that, in all directions, there was nothing but sea, in all the eye could see.

“Okay, yeah,” Juri said, “so it _is_ _Super Danganronpa 2_, that's great.” She gripped her tie tightly.

“Um, is that a video game?” Zoe asked, tilting her head. “I haven't played many.”

“Yeah, I think that's the one with the black and white bear,” Wataru said. He shrugged.

The front of this building was, unsurprisingly, its grandest side. The architectural style and windows leading up to its dark roofs gave it a style that seamlessly blended the rounded and the angular. At its front, an archway covered in vines above a stone-laid path led the way, sided with granite pillars, to a great pair of white and yellow double doors. The scale of this building, for something built in such a remote location, was almost mind-boggling. Finally, to the side of the manor was a black marble plaque. Here is what it read-

**Zephyr-Lily Manor**

**Dedicated to**

** Kyosuke Ayana, 2016-2033**

** _I built this manor so you might finally sleep in peace._ **

** _Let your voice resound in the world beyond._ **

** _Know that you are beloved well past your death._ **

** _Go with no regrets, my brother._ **

**-Nagisa Ayana**

With that in mind, and Zephyr-Lily Manor wholly 'cased', Juri performed an effort that she knew in her heart was fruitless-

“_Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelp!_”

And with that, she slumped to her knees, staring up at the sky. “I, uh...” Minato muttered. “Don't suppose you guys know any smoke signals?” Wataru, sitting down himself on the grass, and Zoe, staring at the inscription with a cloudy look in her eyes, had no answer for him.


	3. Thirteen Sinners, 2 ~ Around the Angel's Fountain

Within the mansion, another saw the flower fields from a higher vantage point- a girl who looked out upon it from the window of her own room in the mansion. She had just woken up in a strange location, with several of her own goods seemingly stolen from her house, so as she looked out that window, there was a strange bit of spite to this young woman's mind that went, and I quote, 'if I'm gonna die, I'm not going out in my goddamn school uniform.' As such, though her hair was not washed, and she had not put makeup on like Juri had, she had nonetheless gotten dressed. 

Her long, straight, crimson hair hung down to midway down her back. She had brown eyes, wide and sparkling, though they spent a fair amount of time narrowed in annoyed bafflement. On some level, she had expected to inherit her mother’s face and its particularly severe sort of gaze, but she found herself largely on a borderline between severity and the shine of youth, with thin, arched eyebrows, a tall nose, and warm, fair skin. 

She wore a tight-fit, short-sleeved logo shirt for her favorite band (pitch black, of course,) which did not quite reach her waist, exposing a slight bit of midriff, and which left little of the toned, agile, and lithe figure of one of the volleyball club's better players to the imagination. She wore a black, silver-studded choker on her neck, and her arms were adorned with arm warmers, horizontally striped with black and neon pink in harmony. She wore a knife-pleated miniskirt, a deep blue with a black pattern of diamonds, which was held up by not one, but two dark belts, slightly off-kilter from each other on her waist. Her knee-high socks, also pitch black, led the way to a pair of shiny black shoes, since she certainly wasn't going out in heels if she had been kidnapped, for god's sake. She was tall enough to overpower a reasonable number of people, anyhow.

If you were to ask her schoolmates what Student Council President **Anzu Itagaki** wore on her days off, you would likely get several answers, ranging from the utilitarian to the wholesome to those worrying few sorts who had fantasies about charming, sterling Itagaki-_sama_ having a particularly licentious alternate persona. These were largely incorrect.

When she had fully gotten dressed, Anzu, for no real reason other than mental satisfaction, threw up a middle finger to the field of flowers through the window. It wasn't that it didn't look nice, but it was the best thing she had to throw up a middle finger at. Most of this was her own memorabilia. Anzu was a punk and thrash metal kind of girl, and in fact owned her own drum set, signed by a number of musicians she had heard of and more she hadn't. Her room, _which these creeps had apparently ransacked_, was dedicated to a little bubble of irreverence towards authority, one which she was quite satisfied with.

As such, she was both unhappy and had enough sense to go out armed. There was a desk in this room, with a fairly sturdy wooden chair at it. Hefting the chair in one hand, she crept towards the door to her room, which only had one door out to anywhere else, and gently put her hand on the knob, which audibly unlocked the door as she turned. And, as she did-

She heard a small yelp from outside the door, and her muscles tensed. From the angle, she was fairly certain they were to the right of the door, which opened outward, so she waited for a moment. The door opening let her hear, and there was a slight shuffling of footsteps to inspect the door-

In a flash of wind and fury, Anzu swung open the door as soon as she thought her assailant would be within range, and brought her chair over her head, but when the other person fell to the ground, crawling away on his hands a little bit, shrieking loudly and saying, “Oh god please don't hurt me I swear I'll give you all the money I have!” it deflated her enthusiasm for the whole thing.

After a few more moments of this guy blubbering, Anzu lowered her chair, and then awkwardly put it down on the ground. “Uh, calm down,” she said, “it's. It's okay.”

Her poor victim, who was needing to take a moment to catch his breath, sat on the ground. A faded, tan flat cap sat atop his dusty mop of black hair, with his dark eyes and rounded face and nose slowing their rapid-fire breathing. He put his hands, which were a little hairy themselves, to his face to rub his stubble, which had evidently gone a number of days without a shave. There was a pallid complexion to his skin that implied he was not much for going outside, though his skin was dark enough that any tan he would've received may not have been very apparent anyhow. He was a bit pudgy, and wore a dark green shirt, with suspenders connected to a pair of faded grey slacks and black loafers. Generally, having known this man, I would describe him as quite shabby, and I trust he would not disagree.

There was a moment of awkward silence as the two of them stared at each other. For lack of a better comment to make, Anzu said, “Uh, suspenders?”

“They're— they're functional.” The man sputtered as he started trying to get up. “And- they were in fashion at... _some_ point, so maybe they'll come back in again.” He rubbed his head as he stood up. “I, uh, I don't actually. Have any money on me.” 

“You don't _look_ like you have money on you.” Anzu responded. 

“Hey now, that's- that's rude. That's-” He had finally fully stood up. The two of them were about the same height. “I- now, you're not necessarily wrong. But that's rude. I-” He shook his head. “Uh, were you also kidnapped?”

'Also'? “Huh. So it's not just me?” Anzu finally took this moment to look around the room. She'd exited the door into a sleek, cool hallway, with new, shiny, stone flooring- on this wall she'd come from, there was a neighboring room, as well. Her fellow victim had apparently come from the hallway leading onwards. Despite the mansion's outside, this hallway, and the rest of this floor’s interior, had a very modern chic approach to design. 

“No, I...” The man shook his head. “Well, I came from a little residential hall for two on the other edge of this floor of the building we're in, quite like this one. There's someone in the room next to mine- I, er, I knocked- but while I heard them yelp, I didn't get any further response, so I would... imagine that there's also someone...” He gestured to the door next to Anzu's. “In there. And I saw a number of others out the window, briefly.”

The simple fact was that to Anzu, this man didn't seem like he could possibly be a threat, so she said, “Gimme a sec,” returned to her room, placed her chair down properly, and then came back out. “Sorry. I was kind of jumpy. They- did they steal any of your shit, too?”

“Ah, well, that may very well be my lamp...” The man chuckled awkwardly. “And my shelf... and my pens, definitely... yes, I think so.” He paused. “You're... You can't be any older than eighteen, can you? They've even kidnapped a high school student?”

“I was figuring it'd be a ransom thing.” Anzu shrugged. Judging from context, these 'others' this man had seen were likely older than her, as well. “Or maybe a hazing ritual.”

“While you're still in high school?” the man asked, his eyes widening slightly.

“I hear they get pretty nuts in my area.” Anzu said. “So there's nobody else around?”

“Certainly not that I've seen.” The man shook his head. Then there was another moment of silence, after which the man said, “Park.”

Anzu blinked. “What, my car?”

“No, er- My name. Park. **Jong-ki Park.**” The man named Park weakly bowed. “I... figured I should introduce myself, at least, so you weren't stuck with a strange man you knew absolutely nothing about... I suppose.”

In response, Anzu nodded. “Anzu. Well, lead the way, Mr. Park.”

“Should we not wait for your neighbor here?” Park asked, giving a glance to the door next to Anzu.

“The more space we can make sure is safe before they get out here,” Anzu said, “the better. You know what kind of building this is?” She started walking.

“It's certainly large enough to be considered a mansion, at least,” Park said, walking beside her. “I haven't gotten a look from outside just yet, but there are stairs in the area we're headed to, so it has at least three floors- there appears to be a cellar. Ah, actually, come to think of it... There might also be a fifth residential room, as well, these doors seem different from the rest to mark them. I saw another door of that sort in the center here.”

“So, five, how many people did you see outside?” Four, Park responded. “At least nine people, huh. Think they could've been our kidnappers?”

“No- er, not all of them, at least,” Park said. “At least one of them seemed intensely nervous... and they seemed to be exploring the outside together, given their slow pace.”

“You said you saw out the window, right? Where are we?” Anzu asked.

“By the shoreline on at least one side... but it's possible we're on some sort of island. I've been able to see the ocean from every window I've looked out from,” Park responded.

“So whoever got us, they've kidnapped, like, at least nine people, and put us on an island inside a mansion,” Anzu said, and Park, after a moment, nodded. “Well that's just...” She trailed off, as the two of them exited this hallway to enter into the center of the mansion. “Oh, what the fuck is that.”

'That' was Zephyr-Lily Mansion's centerpiece installation- within the center of this area sat a great, multi-tiered, marble fountain, topped with a depiction of an angel, and though neither of these two knew this, I am capable of informing you it was the angel Phanuel. The central plaza which contained this fountain was lit through open windows high above, causing the water from the fountain to sparkle alluringly in the light. The fountain sat in a depression in the center of the room, around which, closer to the edges of the room, were a series of similarly scenic floral arrangements in small installations. The sleek stone flooring and cool, grey walls continued out to this section of the building, but the area itself was significantly more colorful.

The two of them had entered from the southwest end of the room, and true to Park's word, an identical hallway was present on the southeast end. Between the two was the telltale red wood of that fifth residential door. To the east and west were hallways with a number of doors themselves, two on each wall, leading out to the entrances of the decks, and with small junctions leading to the indoors entrances to two of the residential suites each. Finally, to the north was a pair of double doors, mirroring the ones on the manor's front, leading to the antechamber of the building.

“Great,” Anzu scoffed, rolling her eyes. “It's not bad enough I got kidnapped, I got kidnapped by rich weirdos who think they're artists.”

“The décor is certainly...” Park trailed off for a moment. “Ostentatious.” He paused. “This is the sort of setup you often see in media, and, er, whatnot. At the very least-”

“You said there were more floors, right?” Anzu interrupted.

“Ah, yes.” Park nodded. “Er, that door there leads to the antechamber, which has the mansion's grand stairwell. It leads at least up and down one floor. And, ah...” He pointed to the east hallway's most noteworthy door, a large metal one. “That's an elevator, from my brief inspection.”

“What else is on that side?” Anzu asked, while simultaneously going over there to check that hallway anyway. The elevator was still on this floor, so a quick tap to its wall-side button opened it, and a peek inside told her there was also a third level above, with four total stops.

“One appears to be a unisex restroom,” Park responded. “The other, here, leads to an infirmary of sorts- I only peeked in, but it certainly looks... equipped.”

“An infirmary?” Anzu muttered. “...What kind of building even is this?”

“I wish I knew, Miss Anzu,” Park said, rubbing the back of his head. Anzu herself wasn't all that well-versed in the intricacies of the infirmary, having very rarely needed to visit her own school's, but from a cursory glance, the cabinets certainly appeared stocked with all sorts of who knew what, and the clean, sterile room itself, with a number of beds and machines that certainly did something or another, _looked_ like an infirmary. 

Anzu had very little hope in her heart that this exploration would lead to anything constructive. Without a goal, without some missive from their captors, whoever they might have been, there was really exceedingly little chance that exploring a mansion that was apparently on an island was going to magically lead to a way to return to her perfectly ordinary home like nothing had happened. As such, only forward momentum did much to prevent her from simply lyying down and waiting.

Having taken the long way around to increase the amount of time she spent walking, Anzu and Park had returned to the central plaza to head to the western hallway when there was a sound to their left- the sound of a doorknob turning. Anzu's entire body immediately tensed up, and she raised a hand to Park. There was, after all, the possibility that someone might come out violent from that door.

Someone did not come out violent from the door. Rather, what actually occurred was that the room's occupant sidled out of the door gently as she could, keeping close to the door to minimize noise, and even went so far as to turn the knob before she pulled the door back in. With a relieved breath, she then turned around and noticed that Anzu and Park were staring at her. “Er-”

Anzu blinked. “Hi.”

“...I'm sorry,” the girl said. “Have I... interrupted something?” There was something vaguely familiar about this young woman, but Anzu couldn't quite place it. She was just a touch shorter than Anzu, with chestnut brown hair hanging in a chin-length bob. She wore plain, black-rimmed glasses on her green eyes, with a medium skin tone and unremarkable facial features that seemed to Anzu to embody the phrase, 'another face in the crowd.' She'd come out in a frilly, long-sleeved white dress with a few dark ribbons here and there, that despite said frilliness also carried an air of chastity, white gloves, and white socks, with no shoes. How polite, Anzu thought. The dress disguised her figure to the point where about all Anzu could tell was that this girl was rather full-chested.

“No, not... not particularly,” Park responded. 

“Ah, one moment, please.” The girl said, and then proceeded to perform her previous maneuver in reverse, slinking back inside her room and quietly shutting the door before knocking on her own door, gently proclaiming, “I'm coming in,” and opening the door to let herself out of her own room. Her body language and diction, too, were astonishingly demure and feminine.

“I don't, er, think the politeness is quite necessary in a situation like this,” Park said, a confused look on his face.

“Please forgive me. It's force of habit,” the girl said. “Er- not to be rude, but would the two of you happen to know where we are? I don't think this is my apartment...”

After giving this girl the brief rundown of the situation thus far, she looked downcast, pressing her hands together. “I see... that's very unfortunate.”

“Yeah, that's one word for it,” Anzu said. “I'm Anzu, and this is Park.”

Park nodded, and removed his cap to bow. “Yes, Jong-ki Park, at your service, ma'am.”

“You didn't bow to me, dickweed.” Anzu's nose curled up.

“W-well-” Park's put-on airs of dignity were quickly wiped away. “You had just come at me with a chair in your hands! I thought I was in mortal peril- er, well, more mortal peril than I likely am in already! I-”

“Excuse me for the interruption!” the girl said, and stared at Park. “Jong-ki Park... You wouldn't happen to be the author of _Things that Happen in the Fast Lane_, would you?”

“Eh?” Park's eyes widened, but this time it was with a little bit of happiness. “Oh, you've read it? I- I didn't think I had a reader base in that demographic...”

“As a die-hard fan of the thriller genre,” the girl said, an enthusiastic glow to her eyes, “naturally, I would know such a seminal modern work! I was just twelve when I read it the first time, but I've re-read it a number of times in years since.”

“T-twelve?” Park sputtered. “W-wow, children really can get their hands on anything...”

“You're an author?” Anzu raised her eyebrow.

“Yes, well... aha, er, of a few works...” Park twiddled his fingers. “Ah, but don't pay me any mind there. I'm just happy to meet someone who's enjoyed what I've put out.”

“It's an honor to meet you, Park-_sensei_.” The girl politely curtsied. It was at roughly this point that the niggling familiarity in Anzu's brain became too much to ignore.

“Hey, weird question but, have we met before?” Anzu blinked, and the girl returned her gaze, blinking as well. “I donno, I just have this weird feeling like I recognize you from somewhere.”

“Oh!” The girl's eyes widened. “Please forgive me for not introducing myself sooner.” She clasped her hands. “My name is **Mai Orihara**. I don't believe we've ever met, no... hm...”

Mai Orihara. Mai Orihara. The name was familiar to Anzu, to be sure. By the look on his face, Park was having much the same thought. As Anzu thought, Mai had a look of realization on her face as she walked forward and said, “Excuse me, Anzu-_san_, but I think there's something behind your ear.”

“Eh?” Anzu blinked, and sure enough, Mai reached behind Anzu's ear and... wait, where had that coin come from? “Eh?!”

“Hehehe.” Mai giggled, and twirled that little coin in her fingers. Then, it was like there was an audible click in Anzu's head.

“Oh- you!” Anzu pointed her finger. “You- you're that magician! I've seen your posters!”

“I don't mean to be big-headed, but I assumed that was it,” Mai said, smiling. 

“Yeah, some of my friends have gone to your shows...” Anzu said. “They, like, rave about them, they say you're super impressive...” Her nose twitched. “And all your adverts smell like chlorine.”

“...That's odd.” Mai blinked.

“I haven't had the chance to visit one of your shows myself, either,” Park said, chuckling bashfully, “but I have it on good word from a friend that they're quite spectacular. It's an honor to meet you, Miss Mai.”

Mai Orihara had gotten her start two years ago, at the age of seventeen, but only recently, in the past eight months, had she become genuinely popular. Her skill and showiness at delighting the senses and befuddling even the most cynical onlookers was becoming a noteworthy proponent for some declaring this modern era of the past few years something of a stage magic renaissance. Of course, she was not the sort of person to openly discuss her own media presence.

“Huh,” Anzu said, leaning in. “From the way you dress on the adverts I'd figure you'd be... flashier.”

“Ehe, I find that seems reasonably common,” Mai said, an awkward smile on her face. “More in line with yourself, Anzu-_san_?”

“...I guess.” Anzu shrugged.

Mai nodded, and puffed herself up. “Well, there's no sense getting down. We should go on, Park-_sensei_, Anzu-_san_.” She began to walk towards the west hallway.

“Uh-” Anzu raised her hand. “You're making me feel weird with that, you sound like my classmates.”

Smiling, Mai turned her head and said, “Anzu.” Her smile caught the light of the windows a touch.

“I'm only twenty-eight,” Park said, placing his cap back on his head, “and somehow I feel like I've been outdone by the younger generation already. So this is how it feels to become old...”

Taking the moment to pivot, Anzu pivoted, snorted, and said, “Shut up, old man.”

“I feel as though I'm going to sprout seventy grey hairs just from you saying that.” Park grimaced. “The stress is bad enough.”

“Maybe you'll look more dignified with 'em.” Anzu said, putting her hands on her hips and leaning over at him.

\--And just like that, suddenly someone who could drive herself had arrived, so it wasn't Anzu who needed to keep the momentum going forward. That made things much easier. It was simple to follow Mai's lead as she explored. 

Entering the single door to the north of the western hallway, Mai swung the door open to reveal a similarly smooth, modern chic, but certainly not unpleasant, dining room, with a floral-print rug and several small cabinets around the room to contain some finer china. In the back of the dining room, a door led to an open, visible kitchen, which was fairly expansive in its own right. “Ah, that's good.” Mai clasped her hands. “I would hate for us to all have to go hungry.”

Anzu, meanwhile, counted the seats around the dining room. There were more than nine- in all, the seats counted... “Thirteen,” Anzu said. 

“Thirteen is bad luck in some cultures,” Park added. “That's unnerving.”

“That would leave Anzu's neighbor, Park-_sensei_'s neighbor, and four others, correct?” Mai asked, and the other two nodded. “I wonder where they might be... I certainly hope they're alright.”

“But you don't know them.” Anzu blinked.

“So?” Mai tilted her head.

“...Fair.” Anzu averted her eyes slightly. On the other side of this eastern hallway, one door led to a laundry room whose shelves were packed with cleaning supplies and apparati, with both manual and automatic washing supplies, and the other led to an extensively-stocked linens closet with styles and consistencies of all sorts, more than Anzu had ever really been cognizant of in her own life. “How impressive,” Mai said. “For our captors' rudeness, they've certainly left us a great deal. It's as though they expect us to live here.”

“They _probably_ expect us to live here or something,” Anzu said, sighing.

“I'm not _too_ averse to the idea of relocating,” Mai said, “but I would've preferred they ask my permission.” Park had little to offer but a nervous little laugh, as as soon as the thought was brought up, he'd begun to sweat.

“Sensei, you said that the person in the room next door to you sounded frightened, yes?” Mai said, once they'd explored there. “I think I'd like to go check on them, if that's alright. We shouldn't just leave them in their room.”

“Ah, yes, well...” Park's eyes nervously darted around. “You're- you're right, of course.” He chuckled awkwardly. “I- that does sound like a good idea, I probably should have-”

“There's no need to be disappointed in yourself.” Mai smiled, putting her arms behind her back and smiling. “It's understandable.”

So, the three of them headed to the southeast wing to find Park's neighbor. A small, soft whimpering could be heard if you listened closely as you headed to this door. Mai knocked on the door. “Hello?” There was an indistinct muttering. “We're not here to hurt you. We're in the same situation as you... It's alright.”

The person on the other door was silent, but there was a slight bit of shuffling. Then, curiously enough-

Through the crack under the door, a leaf slid out. It was a vivid green. “Aspen,” The halting voice of a young boy said through the door. 

As the three looked down at this leaf, Anzu said, “What?”

“Aspen,” The boy repeated. “Tree. _Populus_ genus, native to deciduous areas of the Northern Hemisphere.” Then, under the door, another thing- a pressed, purple flower. “Foxglove.”

“Is this some kind of riddle?” Anzu raised her eyebrow, but Mai raised her hand to quiet her.

“Excuse me, I'm sorry, but I don't know,” Mai said. “I don't know what these plants mean.”

There was another pause. “Aspen can mean... excess of sensibility, lamentation... fear! Fear,” The boy said, sounding a bit triumphant as he found the word. “Foxglove- er, insincerity... Insincerity.”

“Ah-” Park's eyes widened. “One second!” He raised his finger and hurried into his own room, then returned with a mistletoe-print bookmark, which he slid under the door. Anzu, for her part, looked like she had no idea what was happening.

After a few more moments, the door slowly, unsteadily opened, with both of the boy's hands on it, the knob clacking slightly from the trembling of his small hands. “...ah!” His breath hitched when he saw the three others, but he didn't close the door. He picked up the aspen leaf and held it up, as if signaling his fear to the other three.

“It's alright,” Mai soothed. “It's okay. We don't want to hurt you.” It took a moment to notice, but the boy was muttering something well, well under his breath. “I'm sorry... what was that?”

“Don't know... where I am...” the boy said, with tears in his eyes. He was heavily dressed, with a soft, black beanie to pull over his bushy hair, which was a light shade of purple and long enough to cover his ears, and a heavy, flower-print coat over him that looked a little too large for him and his grey sweatpants. His bangs almost covered most of his face, but the tears in his violet eyes were still evident from behind them. His skin was cool, a bit pallid, and his cheeks were unseasonably rosy. Judging from his face, small and soft as it was, and his short stature, he likely wasn't any older than, say, twelve. He ducked back into his room briefly, and then brought out another pressed flower- this one, a red spider lily, then presented it.

There was a pause.

“Ah- um...” The boy stammered. “I- h-higanbana, er... um, never meet again, abandonment... no no no... l-lost, um... lost- memory, don't- I don't... um, remember...”

“You don't remember how you wound up here?” Mai asked, and the boy nodded. “Neither do we. It's okay, though.” She smiled. “I swear you can trust us.”

With another pause, the boy let out a breath, and, shivering, fully opened the door. Then, with a small wail, he lurched into Mai's arms and let her hold him.

“H-hey...” Anzu said, kneeling down. “It's- It's gonna be okay, um...” She looked towards Park. “How'd you know to do that?”

“Ah- well, mistletoe has an association with the idea of peace. I believe it was... er, the Romans, who hung them over doorways to protect their houses,” Park said, fidgeting. 

Mai brushed aside the boy's hair on one side, and noticed that in his ear was a small, metal, brass-colored object that looked reasonably like a hearing aid. His breath hitched, and he raised up his hand instinctively to try and protect his ear. “Um,” He said.

“I'm sorry.” Mai lowered her hand.

“...okay.” The boy nodded slightly. He sniffled. Anzu ruffled his hair a little bit, too, and he didn't seem to mind that. “...Please don't touch my ears,” He said, and each word rang with a little clunkiness, as though he'd memorized this exact phrase.

“We won't,” Mai said. “My name is Mai, alright? These are Anzu and Mr. Park. We don't want to hurt you.”

After a moment, the boy's eyes flashed with understanding. “Mai,” he said, and looked at each person in turn, “Anzu, and Mr. Park.” He budged, and Mai let go, allowing him to stand up. “Sorry. Have. Trouble with... words sometimes.”

“Oh, that's alright.” Park said, smiling as best he could. “It happens to us all, I think... What's your name?”

There was a brief pause. “**Ryo**...** Kawashima**.” He started fidgeting for a moment, and then started to unsteadily take off his coat. “Warm. Too- It's too warm.” He hung the coat back up in his room- under it, he was just wearing a black t-shirt.

With Ryo's door closed behind him, Mai said, “We're looking around to try and figure out where we are, Ryo. Would you like to come with us?” Ryo nodded, and grabbed onto Mai's hand.

“...Suddenly, I feel weirdly inadequate,” Anzu said, her lips puckering. “You're, like, my age, right? Ish?”

“Oh, um...” Mai blushed, and chuckled awkwardly. “I'm just treating Ryo like I'd like to be treated, honestly...” 

“Well, you're good at asserting yourself, I guess.” Anzu shrugged.

“No, no, not at all.” Mai shook her head. “I'm awful at it, actually- er, in most situations, I suppose.”

“I, ah, appear to be awful at it in... well, one hundred percent of situations,” Park said. 

\--It was at this point that the previously-discussed four individuals finally happened to come through the front door of the building, head through the antechamber, and reach the central plaza at just the right time to meet the rest. “Oh-” Juri's breath caught in her throat.

“Do _you_ guys know smoke signals?” Minato said, and that made Wataru, Zoe, and Anzu stare at him.

“Ah-” Park said, sweating a little from nervousness. “I know one or two... if I can remember them, I studied them a while ago...” 

Ryo's shock and nervousness from the four new faces was somewhat dampened by his wide-eyed glee at the flower installations. He smiled brightly, and went over to inspect them. “...They're even kidnapping kids?” Wataru said, largely looking at Ryo, but with a brief bit of recognition of Anzu and Mai, as well. 

“It would appear that way,” Zoe said, a hand on her chin.

So, to reiterate- These were Wataru Nishikiyama, a sports car racer of some renown; Minato Kuromatsu, a military mechanic with a penchant for the jovial; Juri Sonohara, an average office lady with a poorly disguised otaku streak; and Zoe Kitachi, a psychologist who also enjoyed the odd spot of painting.

“...and yeah, you, you're the girl whose posters smell like chlorine, right?” Minato smiled. Mai chuckled awkwardly.

“So,” Wataru said, crossing his arms with a pensive look on his face, “we've got the four other people from the outside decks and- Anzu, right? Your neighbor?” Anzu nodded. “That's thirteen, unless there's anyone we're missing.”

The antechamber of the mansion, incidentally, contained the grand staircase which led up and down the floors, as well as the other half of the inside entrances to the residential suites which sat on the deck.

“Okay, but like, thirteen people get kidnapped and put on an island in a mansion,” Juri said, “and the mansion looks like _thiiiiis_,” and she gestured widely, “so are we sure we aren't dreaming?”

“Weirdly realistic dream,” Anzu said, standing with Ryo to look at him inspecting the flowers.

“It's theoretically _possible_ that this is in one of our imaginations,” Zoe said, “but I'd like to believe that I am not a figment of anyone's imagination more than I would like to believe I'm not present on this island.”

“Well, then just pretend we're all figments of your imagination.” Minato grinned.

“...That would be... unproductive, I think,” Park said. “I-”

“Didn't you _just_ put a ring on her finger and now you want her to pretend you don't exist?” Juri said, sitting down on the fountain and putting her chin in her hands to give him that same disdainful look. When Anzu looked over with a baffled gaze, the two of them met eyes and nodded in understanding over the no doubt miserable character of Minato Kuromatsu.

“Ayame,” Ryo added, staring at an iris. “...good ne- Loyalty. Loyalty.”

“I feel like I'm being dissed here,” Minato said, frowning. He turned his head to look at Wataru. “Hey, Wataru, back me up here!”

“I've known you for maybe an hour,” Wataru responded, raising his eyebrow.

In response, Minato crossed his arms and huffed. “Y'all are a bunch of spoilsports.” 

Mai, after introductions, had been locked in pensive thought during the conversation, but she then spoke up. “If our captors want anything from us,” she said, “they're probably going to wait until all thirteen of us are awake and together. Barring any interruptions, I think it would be best to find the remaining five and begin making plans to explore the other buildings on the island.”

“We'll need to take inventory of what we've got for food, too,” Wataru chimed in. “If there's thirteen of us, we're gonna go through provisions pretty quick.”

“That's true.” Mai nodded. “Delegation may be called for, especially if the island's native wildlife is anything particularly threatening. I-”

It was then that Mai realized that people were staring at her. “I guess some people are just born serious, huh?” Juri shrugged.

“Er- no, that is- ahaha...” Mai rubbed the back of her head and laughed awkwardly. 

“I mean, it's a good thing, right?” Juri said. “Organization! It's important!” Then, she slumped over. “Can I take a few leaves out of your book, Mai? Can you clean my room?”

“...If you wanted me to.” Mai blinked, tilting her head.

“This is the part,” Anzu said, from over with Ryo at the flowers near the southwest hallway, “where you exercise your independence by saying no.”

“Er, shouldn't we be cleaning our own rooms, anyhow?” Park said, idly gazing on those flowers himself, but not close enough to disturb Ryo, who was excitedly showing Anzu a few of them. “We are adults, after all-”

“You ever notice,” Minato said, “how it's the people who are obsessed with appearing adult who are the least mature?”

That gave Park pause, so he put his chin in his fingers and said, “Oh... maybe you're right, I- perhaps that's my problem.” He was so caught up in this, in fact, that he failed to react properly to what was about to happen. “Maybe I should try and be a little... a little more, er, free-spirited-”

“_Watch out_!” Mai and Wataru both caught the warning signs, and shouted at once.

“I-” Then, noticing the danger, Park instinctively ducked to the left, avoiding the overhead swing from his assailant. “Aaa_aaaaa_aaaaahhh!” He scrambled away again, running into one of the flower fixtures, his right eye rapidly twitching. Mai went instinctively to grab something at her hip, but then realized it wasn't there and froze.

Thankfully, levying her chair at the rest of them, the ninth kidnappee did not seem particularly interested in advancing. Rather, she sidled towards the flower fixture where Anzu and Ryo stood, pointing her chair at everyone present. “_Don't. Move,_” She said, her voice a low rumble. “As you can see, I am armed. I will not hesitate.” At the time, you could see Wataru's eyes darting about looking for a way to de-escalate the situation. Juri was frozen in terror, and both Minato and Zoe looked incredibly tense.

The first person to actually react here was Anzu, who proceeded to rapidly defuse the tension by shouting, “Oh, _come the fuck on_!”

“Anzu, stay right there,” The woman said, turning her head slightly. She was tall, a touch taller than Wataru, which made her the tallest person in the room, with a severe look to her face down her aquiline nose, the beginnings of wrinkles proclaiming her recent entry into the halls of middle age, and narrowed brown eyes. She was dressed in a deathly harsh red suit with white shirt and red tie, with sharp black nails that could easily take an eye and sharper black pants that could take a life, and her wavy hair and fair complexion, along with her visibly buxom figure that had yet to succumb to the devils of aging, created an aura of a woman who could easily reach out and wring your neck if she so pleased- “I-”

“I can't even get _kidnapped_ without you around!?” Anzu threw her hands out, which were thankfully too high up to hit Ryo.

The woman froze, and it was likely at that point that everyone present registered that this woman happened to have the exact same shade of crimson hair as Anzu, though there was the occasional hint of grey in the older woman's mane.

Anzu turned around in a huff, threw her arms up, took a few steps away, said, “I don't even know what I was expecting,” then turned around again and angrily marched up to the woman who'd just entered for a few steps before thinking better of it and turning around again. 

“U-um,” Ryo murmured, visibly trembling.

The recognition had finally sunk in for Wataru, who put his head in his hands and let out a defeated, “Oh _no_.”

“...So you're... not the ones who kidnapped us,” The woman said. There were a few simultaneous nods. She put her chair down and looked towards Park, still rapidly twitching, and said, “Ah. Apologies. I-” She looked towards Anzu for a second, but then turned away. “Well, I can at least be glad she hasn't been harmed-”

“God _damn_ it, Mom!” Anzu shouted, going to sit on the fountain next to Juri in a huff. Juri looked vaguely uncomfortable.

**Tsukihi Itagaki** stood there for another moment before sighing, putting one hand over her face, and saying, “I have no idea what's going on. Do any of you?”


	4. Thirteen Sinners, Final ~ A Field of Rainflowers

“...and so that's the situation as it stands,” Wataru concluded, as Tsukihi thoughtfully rubbed her chin. “Right now we're going to try and find the last four people.”

“A fair idea.” Tsukihi nodded. “I'd consider Mai's judgment sound- oh, and apologies again about the misunderstanding, Mr. Park.” Park nervously laughed it off, saying, 'oh, it- it was nothing, really,' slightly raising his hands up towards his head when she directly addressed him. “Is it possible anyone's headed to a higher floor without your notice?”

“It's entirely possible,” Mai answered.

“In that case, for better coverage I would suggest we split into groups,” Tsukihi said. “That boy, Ryo-” Ryo looked up upon hearing his name being called. “-has he been outside? He looks as though he could use some fresh air.”

“Hey, Ryo.” Minato grinned at the small boy. “There's a huge flower field in the back, you wanna see it?” Ryo lit up, smiled brightly, and nodded. “Cool, cool!”

“Then, in that case, Ms. Sonohara,” Tsukihi said, and Juri bolted upright, causing Anzu to jerk slightly from her grumpy posture. “Can I ask you to go with Kuromatsu and watch over the children?”

“Yes, ma'am, understood, ma'am!” Juri, squeaking, saluted, her face all red. Anzu just had a loud sigh to offer.

“Not that I disagree, but technically,” Zoe chimed in, “aren't Anzu and Mai also adults?”

“I can't wrap my head around that being the law, so humor me,” Tsukihi said, and Zoe shrugged. (For those of you who are unfamiliar, in 2022, the Japanese age of majority was lowered from twenty to eighteen.) “Mr. Nishikiyama, Mr. Park, Dr. Kitachi, would you come with me to the higher levels of the mansion?”

Wataru stood up. “Don't see any reason why not, as long as you don't try and brain me next.”

“I assure you I have no reason to harm you at the moment, Mr. Nishikiyama,” Tsukihi said. “You would know if I did.” As those four then went to head off, Park keeping just a little bit of distance between himself and Tsukihi, Tsukihi looked as though she wanted to say something to Anzu, but no words were exchanged.

As soon as they left the room to head up the stairs, Juri let out a loud breath. “Ohhhh man that was nervewracking.” At Mai and Minato's curious looks, she said, “Uh, you know, I think- Tsukihi Itagaki, right? Yeah, her business is, uh, you know, kinda... high-profile client of... the business I work for, and...” She had a tendency towards gesticulation.

“You're worried about being fired at a time like this?” Minato laughed.

“_Maybe!_” Juri stood up and shouted. Mai politely chuckled.

Anzu snorted. “Just like her to waltz in like she owns the place-” She sighed, cutting herself off. “Sorry.”

Ryo was looking towards the door to the antechamber, and as he did so, he quietly moved over to one of the flower displays and waved the leaf of one plant, with tiny, yellow flowers, at the door. “...impatience, impatience of- C-come back soon.”

* * *

Zephyr-Lily Mansion's antechamber was perfectly in keeping with the ostentatious modern-chic décor of the rest of the floor, but as the four of them climbed up the stairs, midway through the stairwell the walls shifted from the sleek greys to a rustic, wooden-textured brown.

This floor had no separation between stairwell and the main hall, so it became immediately visible that this floor's centerpiece was a sizable archive of books, with a number of long tables, equipped with lamps and more deadly, deadly chairs. There were a number of doors to the other sides, as well, including the elevator entrance. A higher, grand window looked out towards the flower field.

“Yeah, they _probably_ want us to live here for a while,” Wataru said.

“That's unacceptable. I have things to do.” Tsukihi scoffed.

“Preaching to the choir here,” Wataru said, going to inspect the texts. The first thing he grabbed was a particularly hard-to-understand academic text. “...Huh.”

Although their exploration of the archive was not particularly in-depth, it became quickly clear that this mansion had quite an eclectic set of books on display, from school textbooks to pulp fiction to bound tomes of sheet music to fishing logs, of all things. That said, the archive was not completely full- several of the shelves were not filled to the brim, and one of the furthest-back bookshelves was completely empty.

“So they have the budget for a fountain, but don't have enough books?” Wataru's nose crinkled. “That's just weird.”

“Do, er... well, it- it might be possible that this is just the, er, the dregs of their collection, perhaps?” Park offered. “Perhaps our captors have even more wherever they've gone.”

From the east side of the room, Tsukihi said, “Does that matter?”

“Well, er, no, not- not _really_...” Park said, deflating a bit.

On the east side of the room were two more doors, between which was a small hallway which led to the second floor elevator stop. Closer to the stairs, Zoe found a fairly modern TV and speaker setup in a reasonably sizable A/V room, with storage cabinets of media discs and a large sofa whose comfort level I can tell you was perfectly satisfactory. Poking her head out after an inspection, she asked, “Does anyone here enjoy _Fast and the Furious_? They have the entire series.”

Park, a bit dejected after the book discussion, turned, his eyes lighting up. “Oh! Oho!”

Wataru, on the other hand, raised his hand and wiggled it back and forth. “Eh, it's kind of...” He grimaced a bit.

The other room on that side, though, had something of a more unique atmosphere. A long table sat in the center of a dreary, grey room, with a great floral display atop its clean white tablecloth, and several small, wax candles lit around the room- personally, this room always unnerved me. A great picture frame sat, empty, atop the flowers at the center of the table.

“...Huh,” Wataru said, blinking. “Any ideas here?”

“If I, well, if I had to guess, I'd say...” Park cleared his throat. “A funeral chamber, perhaps?” Small vents near the top of the room took the light trails of smoke from the candles. Indeed, beneath the tablecloth was an open indentation in the floor that seemed large enough that it could fit a dead body. Behind the table, on the far wall, thirteen small black crates sat in a row- each identical, with lines set upon them that indicated they were meant to open. However, no locking or unlocking mechanism was evident upon them.

“How quaint.” Tsukihi cocked an eyebrow. “The décor is dreadfully tacky, though, and the lack of illumination from windows is-”

“I-I, uh, rec- I recognize,” Park stammered, “that for our first meeting this comes too late, but, er, if you _do_ kill me, Mrs. Itagaki- er, please don't bury me here? The beach outside is nice- or- or perhaps you could store my corpse somewhere and bury me back on the mainland, that would be wonderful, too.”

A moment later, Tsukihi sighed and rolled her eyes. “I'm _not going to kill you_, Mr. Park.”

“That's very fair, you know, it-” Park nervously chuckled to cut himself off.

On the other side of this floor were four doors, though they were not equidistant- one sat apart from the other three, across from the funeral chamber. Fitting with its bizarre atmosphere, its partner across the way opened to a room that housed a great white machine, several meters and gauges running across a few indiscernible screens that ran data far too quickly for the human eye to read. Wataru's brief experimentation with the center console, though, produced little more than an obnoxious buzzing noise.

“What do you suppose this is?” Zoe asked, a befuddled look on her face.

“That boy Kuromatsu is a mechanic, yes?” Tsukihi said, her hand on her chin. “We should ask him to inspect this machine once we've reunited.”

“Hopefully it doesn't explode when he does,” Wataru said. “I'd rather keep my face.”

The next room, however, produced more immediate results. Park was the one to open the door, but he stopped in the doorway. Within this door sat something akin to an office break room, with several cabinets, a water machine, a rack of such things as artificial sweeteners and teabags, and a coffee machine. At the time, said coffee machine was running, pouring a steady stream of coffee into a mug proudly proclaiming itself a fan of the Chunichi Dragons, a popular baseball team from Nagoya, though personally I'm much more fond of the Yoimuri Giants. Frankly, such taste as to own a Chunichi Dragons mug told me first off once I saw it that the owner of this mansion doubtless was a second-rate baseball fan, if that- fond of popular trends and with little brand loyalty, as this mansion was clearly not in Nagoya- and, while this is somewhat of a spoiler, the owner is indeed not from Nagoya themselves, so that was yet more evidence in my favor.

Subpar taste in baseball aside, standing in front of the machine patiently waiting for her coffee to pour into the mug, heat steaming out of the mug as it slowly filled, was a young woman draped in a white lab coat with a number of visible coffee stains and what one would hope were a few stains of ketchup, or the like. Her stringy black hair was tied up in a messy bun with the assistance of a few lazily-planted chopsticks, and visible bags sat under her hollow, grey eyes. Her skin was dark and pallid, and a pair of circular glasses slid down her nose slightly as she yawned, bringing one hand with its gnawed-on nails to push said glasses back up her nose. Comfortable-looking pink slippers sat on her feet, making slight shuffling noises as she adjusted her posture to turn her head and look at Park.

The woman made a noise that sounded _vaguely_ like a, “Hey,” before she craned her head back to the coffee machine. It made a pleasant ding as her cup finished pouring, and she grabbed her mug by its handle, promptly mixed in a packet of cream and two sugars, turned, and began shuffling out of the break room. Park awkwardly shuffled out of the way himself, making the way for the woman to get out of the room. As she did, it became visible that she was wearing a dark grey sweatshirt and a pair of long, navy blue, floral print sleep capris. This woman was short, shorter than all four of the adults, and in the years since beginning college, she had started putting on a few pounds that always seemed to head to her thighs.

Tsukihi snapped her fingers, and at the woman's utter lack of response, she said, “Ma'am, pay attention.”

Our sleepy friend yawned again and turned her head, on her way to one of the tables. “Oh... sorry, am I missing a class or something...?” She cocked her head slightly towards the table, where a text on something or another was sitting, still open, and took a drink of her coffee. “I gotta study.”

“...Are you aware you've been kidnapped?” Zoe asked.

At that, our sleepy friend blinked, then looked around, and said, “Oh yeah, this isn't the campus library.” She took another drink of coffee and shrugged. “Ionno. I kinda figured I might've been dreaming when I saw the beach... or something.”

“Have schools become more brutal since I left?” Tsukihi pondered.

Despite her lackadaisical attitude, the woman was receptive to the group's quick run-through of the situation. She slowly nodded, taking a few more sips of her coffee as she did, and said, “Okay, I get it.” She cleared her throat. “**Saori Aoyama**.” She looked down for a moment, and then looked back up. “You think we're gonna be here long...? I have some papers I need to turn in.”

“Ha- aha, how diligent.” Park smiled, though it was, as most things were at the moment, tinged with an intense awkwardness. “I wish I could worry about- about _papers_ at a time like this.”

Saori shrugged. “I don't have much else to worry about...” Her eyes lazily glanced up at Park's head. “I like your cap.”

(Incidentally, while this was interrupted by Saori's appearance, the other two rooms on this floor contained what appeared to be an all-purpose craftsman's workshop, teeming to the seams with handicraft supplies for the enterprising kidnappee, and the floor's requisite restroom. Let it never be said that Zephyr-Lily Mansion was not very properly plumbed.)

* * *

The air was quite clean as Mai took a deep breath in through her nose, taking in the sight of the mid-afternoon sun in the sky. “I've never actually been to the beach before,” she said.

“City girl through and through?” Minato grinned.

“I wouldn't say that, necessarily...” Mai shook her head.

“Naw, I get it.” Minato shrugged, turning around and beginning to walk off the deck. “I mean, if you go to a public beach, there's a bunch of _people_, and that's not some people's scene. Something like that?”

With a self-effacing tone, Mai chuckled. “That's significantly closer.”

“I'd offer to take you”—and Minato smiled over his shoulder from the bottom of the deck—“but I worry you might be taken in by my rugged charm if you were to see me in one of my natural elements.” He winked.

Anzu, who was also taking in the beach's air, turned her head with an unimpressed look and said, “_Rugged_?”

“Rugged!” Minato laughed.

“You have the 'rugged charm' of a fourth grader.” Anzu scoffed.

“Ouch, that stings,” Minato said, making a hissing noise. “That's just harsh. I thought we were friends, Anzu!”

“I literally just met you,” Anzu said. Her face did not change, but her aura of disapproval increased.

“Don't worry, Minato-_san._” Mai giggled. “Whether you had rustic charm or not, I can confidently say I wouldn't be taken in by it.”

“Ooh!” Minato bent over, clutching at his heart, as though he'd been shot. “A lady's harshness... never changes...”

From over on the beach, where she was monitoring Ryo experimentally poking at the water of the ocean, Juri turned over and called, “What are you _doing_?”

Without missing a beat, Minato called back, “We're talking about how I'm youthful, vivacious, harmless, and appealing to guys!”

With a concerned frown, Mai leaned over to Anzu to whisper, “Is- is that what he took from that? I haven't offended him, have I?”

“He's fucking around,” Anzu replied in kind. “One of those _mood-maker_ types. Guys like that have this pathological allergy to being serious.”

“That sounds dreadfully inconvenient,” Mai said. “Should we support him in his time of need?”

“You can if you want, I guess.” Anzu shrugged.

The five of them convened at the beach, where Anzu asked Ryo, “Having fun?”

“Mm.” Ryo nodded, continuing to splash at the water. He pondered for a moment, then said, “I've- never been to- the ocean- before. Only... seen it in books.”

“It's pretty, isn't it?” Mai squatted down next to him and smiled. Ryo returned the smile, and nodded.

Juri sighed, the weight of years she hadn't yet spent, because she was only twenty-four, weighing heavy on her back as she slumped over. “I remember when I had time to just admire water. Don't they... like, don't they take kids your age on field trips anymore?”

Ryo, turning away from his soaking wet hands, tilted his head innocently. “...'Field... trips'?” He felt out the words as though they were foreign to his mouth, then continued, “Why is Field tripping?”

There was a moment of awkward silence before Anzu said, “Just so we're clear, that's the exception.”

“Okay, good,” Minato said, “'cause I was actually getting kinda bummed out there for a second.”

“I'm _still_ bummed out,” Juri said, her slump only continuing.

“...h-hyacinth. Purple,” Ryo muttered. “Sport, joy- no, consistency, apo- I'm sorry.” He paused. “For making you sad.”

“Gawwwwwd, look at his little cheeks,” Juri said, wailing slightly. “Look at his little cheeks! Who'd kidnap a kid this cute?”

“C-cute?” Ryo stammered, his eyes going wide, blushing. He did have eminently pinchable cheeks, for the record, but I'm not the sort of person to say those things out loud, so he would have to make do with the unspoken understanding that I roughly agreed with Juri's general sentiment.

At that moment, though, there was a slight crunch of grass underfoot from behind the fences that caused Mai's head to swivel in the direction of the mansion's front. She stood up from the sand and turned more properly to look. “Something up?” Anzu asked.

“I heard someone,” Mai said. “Be cautious.”

Before any of them could be properly cautious, though, an annoyed sigh huffed out from behind the fence, and the person behind it became visible as he started making his way back towards the front of the building. This was a man, early thirties, just a bit shorter than Wataru and Tsukihi, with pale, cool, fair skin and pitch-black hair hung in a bushy, fluffy ponytail. A dark green, horizontally-striped shirt and navy denim overalls adorned his body. As facial features went, he had some slight, but obvious, stubble, and generally possessed the rugged charm that Minato certainly did not, with a solid chin and a regal sort of countenance, though that was somewhat dampened by the fact that his face was affixed in a frustrated, puckered frown. His eyes were dark enough to match his hair.

“Hey-” With a brief glance around, Juri was the first to speak up, but Mai, Anzu, and Minato visibly had similar reactions. She bustled over as quickly as she could to get in the new arrival's way, saying, “Hey, hey, wait!”

“No.” The man frowned.

“Oh, come on, can-” The two of them, a very built, dark, dour sort of man and an intensely reedy lady of the office, began engaging in some sort of bizarre physical comedy routine where they each rapidly ducked and weaved out of and into each others' way. “-Can someone help me here?”

“Get out of my way.” The man gritted his teeth.

“Sir, please, wait,” Mai said, as the rest of the group naturally gravitated over. “We don't mean you any harm. I believe we're in the same situation as you-”

With another loud sigh, the man rolled his eyes, and with a “Damn it,” put his head in his hand. “I had to run into a bunch of kids.” With a begrudging look at Juri, he added, “...and an OL.”

“Aww, don't worry, Mister,” Minato said, making his voice higher-pitched with a catlike smirk. “All the other adults are in the building right now!”

“Oh, don't let him lump you in with us, you can legally drink, shithead.” Anzu flicked Minato in the head.

The man stared at Minato, and then asked, with a quizzical stare, “Wait, you're an adult?”

“Turn twenty-six in a few months!” Minato laughed, and that just made the man's stare more baffled. “What? Jealous of my smooth skin and babyface, Mister? I-”

“So,” the man said, turning his head to Mai, “you've got one chance to say something smart before I leave.” Minato wailed about the interruption.

What Mai wound up saying was, “This might seem odd, sir, but have we met before?”

There was a slight shift in the man's face, that indicated a moment of recognition. “...You're that magician, Mai Orihara, right?” Mai nodded.

“Yeah, but seriously, though, I was having the same thought,” Minato said, leaning in and putting his hand above his eyes as a shield from the sun, or at least in an imitation of that sort of gesture. “Couldn't tell you from where, but I recognize you from somewhere.”

“Me too,” Juri said. “Uh...”

“You look like an Ulrich, it's Ulrich, right?” Minato grinned. That comment made Anzu grimace, for some reason.

“...I _already_ hate you,” the man grumbled. Turning to Mai again, he said, “We haven't met personally, but I'll let you talk.” With an off-hand glance to Ryo, who was stood behind Mai, he added, “'Cause the kid seems nervous.”

“Thank you, sir.” Mai nodded and graciously curtsied before launching into the most concise explanation of the situation she could manage.

Another heavy, frustrated sigh heaved out of the man's lungs as he said, “Great. So I have to play chaperone now? I had better things to be doing.”

“Like get kidna-” Minato began.

“Hey. Listen,” the man said, his eyes widening slightly. “You want me to ask politely? I'll ask politely. _Please_, shut the fuck up, you are not making this conversation better.”

Minato raised his hands, closed his eyes, said, “Alright, my bad,” and politely shut the fuck up.

“That's _better_, thank you,” the man said. “**Zenji Fuyutsuki**. I'm in the same situation, I don't remember how I got here, either.” When he spoke seriously and without the bitterness, he had a particularly strong, deep voice. “Haven't seen anyone else since I left my room.”

“My apologies for being so business-oriented, Zenji-_san_, but what do you do for a living, if you don't mind me asking?” Mai asked.

“...I'm a singer,” Zenji responded. Minato looked like he wanted to say something, but he had politely shut the fuck up, so he didn't.

“Don't look like much of a singer,” Anzu said, raising her eyebrow.

“And what”—and at that remark Zenji's right eye widened and his eyebrow sharply raised—“does a singer 'look like' to you, kid? You so young you think they've all gotta be boy band pretty?”

“I meant the overalls,” Anzu said, pointing at them. “What do you do, country?”

Zenji scowled. “I get real dolled up when I'm on the job. Forgive me, Your Highness, for wanting to wear something _convenient_ when I'm on my own time.”

Ryo, who had remained silent, entered into the conversation with a white flower petal, holding it up to Zenji. “...Star of bethlehem,” he mumbled. “R-reconciliation.”

His eyes darting away, Zenji said, “Uh... sorry, kid. Ryo, right?” Ryo nodded. “Sorry. I'm... really on edge right now. Um...” He took the petal. “Thanks.”

“You're- you're welcome.” Ryo said, and stopped for a moment.

“...A singer.” Mai's hand was back on her chin, and she had turned away and begun to pace. “A singer, a racer, a psychologist, a mechanic, an OL, a magician, a high school student, a novelist, a businesswoman of some sort, and a child...” (And, not that she knew this at the time, a university student.) “Different ages, certainly different walks of life...”

She was not particularly paying attention as Zenji, with an appraising glance, said, “So she _is_ the one with an actual brain out of you?”

“That's kinda what it seems like,” Minato said, nodding. “Or at least she does a good job pretending.”

* * *

Though it took some coaxing to successfully goad Saori into leaving her studies, Wataru and Tsukihi were able to do so, and the five of them headed up to the top level. This was not a particularly educational journey, though- the entryway of the third floor had large windows illuminating the outside of the manor, and adorned on its walls, which were painted a light lilac, were a number of landscape paintings in such abstract detail that their true intent was lost amidst the visual chaos.

This room was largely empty itself, with a simple door in front. Saori took a sip of her coffee and said, “Wow.”

“'Wow' what?” Zoe asked.

“This is a waste of a room,” Saori said, with that same droopy look on her face. “You could have furniture in here... you could make it nice. Instead it's all messy.”

Presumably caring little for discussion of furniture, Tsukihi walked forward and opened the door, but stopped in the doorway to make a noise of, “_Well_.”

This floor's central feature was rather striking- a thick, pitch-black elevator shaft leading upwards, past the ceiling, separate from the elevator between the other floors. While it was not decorated, as such, its dark metal being placed right in the middle of an otherwise soothingly-colored floor immediately struck a contrast. There was only one, singular button to the side of this elevator, a bright, white, glowing button with the word, 'READY' printed upon it in capital letters.

“Nobody touch that button,” Tsukihi said, throwing her hand up to block the other four.

“I can certainly tell you I was _not_ planning on it,” Park said in a single breath.

Aside from that, and the windows out to the flower field, there were two doors to the left and right. Wataru, inspecting the left side of the room, looked out to the flower field to see- “Ah, there's eleven,” he called out. “The others found another one.”

Soon enough, the group at the bottom, with Zenji now present, were now within plain sight from the third floor. Ryo seemed to be stunned into stillness and silence from the vastness of the field and its colors. “From the look of him...” Wataru said. “...looks like the kind of guy who's a _barrel of laughs_.”

“Hm,” Tsukihi muttered. “That man looks familiar, but I'm not quite sure from where.” Wataru, Park, and Zoe all nodded in agreement.

I'm told a bit of sweat could be briefly seen on Saori's brow, but it quickly vanished as she said, “Yeah... he looks like an Ulrich.” She paused. “Is that a kid?”

“We told you about him,” Zoe said, turning her head and frowning.

“Yeah, but I kinda didn't believe you,” Saori responded.

The door to the left of the room was the first actually locked room the group had come upon, but the right door, at least, was unlocked. However, it was not particularly rewarding- all that opening this door did was reveal a hallway with six more doors. “Oh boy,” Wataru said.

It was at that moment, though, that with a cry of, “_Here's_ the damn thing!” another voice emanated from the second door from the right. Shortly after that, and a few more grunts, the knob twisted and that door opened.

Our twelfth character was a particularly tall man, about a third to half a head taller than Wataru and Tsukihi, his short-cut, fawn hair clearly beginning to battle the greying of age. A somewhat dignified beard of similar color sat upon his chin, and a pair of narrow eyes just barely gave a hint of hazel to his generally square face. His skin, which still held a medium tan shade, was doing battle with wrinkles and a similar greying to his hair. His arms were thick and muscular, and he was generally heavy and particularly top-heavy in a manner I've heard referred to as a 'dad bod'. A red-and-white Hawaiian-print shirt sat open atop his shoulders, with a plain white shirt beneath it. Khaki shorts and sandals, along with the fishing rod sitting in his hand, never failed to give me the impression that this man believed that he was _actually_ on a non-consensual vacation of some nature. There was a slight indentation on his left ring finger.

“Oh, hey,” the older man said, raising his arm in greeting. There was a light, sardonic smile. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I just figured there had to be one somewhere,” he said, as he held up his rod.

“...You were looking for a _fishing rod_?” Tsukihi asked, sputtering in disbelief.

“Well, funny story about that,” the man said. “I woke up and they'd put this key”—and he produced a small brass key from the pocket of his shorts—“on me, so I figured I'd go find what it went to while I was around. But, yeah,” he laughed, “I was looking for a fishing rod.”

“Apparently the guy knows his priorities.” Wataru shrugged, in response to Tsukihi's disdainful stare. Park and Zoe had begun patting themselves down for keys as well.

“You've been _kidnapped_, and you've been looking for a fishing rod.” Tsukihi turned her head back to the new arrival.

“I've been kidnapped, and I was looking for a fishing rod,” the older man said, putting his other hand on his chin. “Real stressful, you know. Seems like a good time to relax and look for a bite.”

“Can I have some?” Saori asked.

“You know what, sure, since you asked so nicely,” the man snorted. “If we're gonna be getting to know each other, what's a bit of fish between victims of a mysterious kidnapping incident?”

“Yaaaay.” Saori gave a V-sign with one hand.

“Well, it's polite to introduce yourself, right?” The man tapped his chest and bowed slightly. “The name's **Kenichiro Washizu**. Hope we can get along.” Brief introductions were made, though Tsukihi's was made with a clear bit of tension behind her voice.

“Pardon me,” Zoe cut in, “but you said, 'sorry to keep you waiting'? Did you know there were others? We seem to still be looking for one person.”

“I'm that fashionably late?” Kenichiro said, rubbing the back of his head. “For shame. Well, you see that elevator there in the middle?” He gestured towards it as the group began to shuffle out of the hallway. “Kinda hard to miss it. Well, I hit that button on it-”

“Y-you're- well, you're a much braver man than I, Mr. Washizu,” Park said, his eyes widening.

“And I'm not even dead yet,” Kenichiro snorted. “Well, when I did, a lady's voice came on the intercom that said, _eh-hem_,” and he put on an unconvincing falsetto, “'A game is not yet in progress. Please gather all thirteen participants!' So I figured.”

“...Well, guess Mai was right on the money,” Wataru said. “Any reason anyone would want to kidnap you?”

“I can think of a few folks.” Kenichiro let out a gruff laugh.

“Really.” Tsukihi's brow furrowed. “And what is it you do, Mr. Washizu?”

“Me?” Kenichiro rubbed the back of his head. “Hmm... Let's say I'm a 'talent agent'.” At Tsukihi's obvious glare, he laughed and slapped his knee. “I'm just saving you the gory details, lady. It's not an incorrect description of my work!”

“Forgive her,” Zoe said, taking a deep breath in and opting to put her hand on Tsukihi's shoulder. “Her daughter is also present, and I would venture to guess she finds you shady.”

“Oh, I'm shady, alright,” Kenichiro said. From his other pocket, he whipped out a pair of sunglasses and briefly put them on. “See? Shady.”

Saori took another sip of her coffee. “Oh no. It's a dad joke.” Her face betrayed no actual despair.

“Better a dad joke than a dead joke, I always say.” Kenichiro grinned. Now, evidently, it was his turn to look out the window and take in the six down there, but as he did, his eyes went wide. “...What?”

“Is there a problem, Mr. Washizu?” Tsukihi said, frowning.

After a moment's silence, Kenichiro shook his head and turned for the way to the stairs. “Nah, must've just been seeing things.” His face was serious, and his eyes misty with thought.

“Huh,” Wataru said, tilting his head slightly. “That is shady.”

Saori nodded. “Yup. Shady.”

“Like a tree against the summer sun.” Park nodded his agreement.

“Then I guess it's time for me to make like a tree and leaf,” Kenichiro said, and saying that put a bit more spring back in his step.

* * *

“Looks like they found some dad in a Hawaiian shirt and a lady in a labcoat,” Anzu said, looking up to the third floor windows as Ryo took in the flower field. “One left.”

Ryo's right foot was fidgeting backwards a little, and that was a tell that he was having a hard time articulating a complex sentiment. Thankfully, he was nowhere near as exulted as the rest had expected, so it was easy for Mai to notice. “Ryo, are you alright?”

With a downcast look, Ryo shook his head. “...Mm-mm. This-” He stepped out of the field of flowers, and waved his hand at it. “-strange. It's not...” He stopped, and sighed. “Sorry.”

“Aww, that's fine.” Minato smiled. Somehow, he had managed to wrangle Zenji sufficiently to start giving him a flower crown, so Zenji, with a deep scowl, was now adorned with a beautiful multi-colored crown of red, orange, pink, and white. “Hey, Ryo, what do these mean?”

When Ryo looked over there, he actually clapped his hands over his mouth to stifle his laughter. “It's something stupid, isn't it,” Zenji sighed.

“_Sparaxis tricolor_...” Ryo giggled. “The 'harlequin flower'-”

Zenji stood up, pointedly not removing his crown, but still turning to Minato and saying, “Alright, that's it, gimme your neck, time to kill you.”

“Please don't kill Minato-_san_,” Mai laughed.

Just then, Juri arrived with her preference of drink (ginger ale), and said, “I knocked on the other door on my side and nothing, so they must be on the other side if they're in their room.”

As it turned out, Zenji had been on the same side of the deck suites as Juri and Zoe. The remaining suite on that side happened to belong to Kenichiro, as they would find out shortly. Since Ryo no longer had any desire to see the flower field, though he still found the smaller installations quite striking and pleasing, all six in this group then gravitated towards the other deck. Knocking on the suite closer to the entrance inward resulted in nothing, as that was Saori's. “You know, if they're still in their room,” Anzu said, “are we sure knocking's gonna do anything?”

“Probably doesn't hurt to try.” Juri shrugged. There was an odd sort of energy to the air with this being the last door, so there was a touch of hesitation to Juri's hand as she knocked on the door.

This knock produced _immediate _results. A loud, high-pitched yelp immediately belted out from within the room, and sounds of shuffling could be heard as the room's occupant frantically darted about to do who-knew-what.

“_Sorry, sorry!_” the room's occupant cried out... in English. “_I'll be right there!_”

There was an awkwardly long silence until the door swung open, and the room's occupant briefly started toppling over herself from the momentum but managed to right herself, with her hand on the doorframe. “_Sorry, y'all, I just-_”

She cut herself off, and took in the fact that six people ranging from a child to a thirty-three year old man were standing in front of her suite. This is likely not a surprise given her previous speech, but this woman was very obviously not Japanese, with fair, pinkish skin, wide, bright, blue eyes, and a long, silky head of golden blonde hair. Though she was sweating from her rush to get outside, and her hair was slightly disheveled, her clean, blemish-free skin and general _sparkly_ quality still gave her a picturesque appearance. The same could be said of the fact that though all she was wearing was a plain white sundress, one of whose straps was awkwardly falling off of her shoulder in her haste, her lush, curvy figure nevertheless gave the impression that even such simple dress could be a look befitting a fairy tale princess right out of a storybook. (..._if_ said princess had not visibly forgotten to put on proper support this morning, and her chest _definitely_ needed it.)

After this very particular woman took the time to register, her gaze settled on Zenji, as she shifted to leaning one elbow on the doorframe and placing the side of her head in that arm's hand, leaning over slightly and winking, her face going from a hurried grimace to a coy smile. “Howdy, tall, dark, and handsome”—and though it was rather strongly accented, that _was_ Japanese, this time—“you come here often?”

Zenji was presumably a bit gobsmacked by the fact that this woman had chosen to sparkle at _him_. “Uh,” he said, and then continued, “N-no. What? No.”

“Well, tell you the truth, I don't, either,” the woman said. “Actually, I'd go so far as to-”

“Get back in there, and put on a goddamn bra,” Anzu snapped, her face red.

“Yeah, uh, I was still lookin' through my dressers 'n all, most o' this ain't actually mine.” The woman went from flirtatious to completely frank in an instant, pursing her lips. “How's about I close my door a sec and then we can try this whole thing again?”

“Sure,” Mai nodded.

As promised, the woman closed her door and gave this group time to digest. “Are-” Juri sputtered. “Are American women actually like that? I thought that was a myth, do they actually look like that?”

“Is that American?” Anzu asked.

“Rural Nevadan, if I don't miss my mark...?” Mai answered, a vague, awestruck tone to her voice.

A moment later, the woman said, “Sorry, sorry,” and re-opened her door. She had also had the good manners to put on a pink cardigan as well. “Really, sorry to disturb y'all, are you the owners? Looks like a nice place you got here,” she said, looking around the beach. “Awful scenic! Don't think I've got much cash on me if'n you want rent, plus my debit card's gone runnin'-”

“Do we _look_ like we own a mansion this big?” Anzu raised an eyebrow.

“Well, no, ya don't, but I got about zero ideas otherwise so it was somethin', ya know? Plus... crazy world, y'know, _crazy_ world.” She put a finger up to her right temple and pushed on it, and then stopped, paused, put her arms behind her back, smiled, and said, “Howdy, y'all! What can I do you for?”

“So, did you get kidnapped, too?” Minato said. Even he had been rather fazed, but he had bounced back quickly.

It took the woman a second to respond as realization visibly dawned on her. “Oh- oh, _kidnappin'!_ Ohhhh, that makes... more sense. Y'know, a non-zero amount.” She waved her hand back and forth. “Well, if it's kidnappin', they gave me an awful nice room, that's awful sweet of 'em. I-” Then she stopped. Her gaze landed on Mai, and her nostrils flared a bit, presumably as her mind called the scent of chlorine. “...Say, I might be just totally off-mark, little miss, but, uh-”

“You've heard of me?” Mai, wide-eyed, had nothing she could do but blink.

“Now I _gotta_ be dreamin'.” The woman proceeded to pinch her cheek, but that didn't seem to have quite the effect she was hoping for. Now her gaze bounced to Ryo. “Hey, uh, sorry, little fella, weird question- can I pinch your cheeks?”

“H-huh?” Ryo blinked, but he slowly nodded. He seemed a little starstruck as the woman squatted down, a bit unsteady on her feet, and tightly squeezed his cheeks. He let out a little squeak.

“My god, they're real,” the woman said, her eyes far away. “I ain't dreamin'.” Then she was right back in the moment, with a glowing smile. “Aww, yer little cheeks are just the cutest thing I ever did see, ain't they? What's your name, sweetie?”

“R-Ryo,” he said, once she finished pinching. He was blushing, too.

“Well, howdy, Ryo,” the woman said. She clasped her hands together. “There ain't no reason to be scared, I _assure_ you I'm nothin' but a reasonably proud Nevadan belle.”

“...On the money.” Anzu blinked at Mai.

“Gee, if we been kidnapped, though, that's awful spooky!” the woman said, animatedly putting her hands up to her cheeks. “Whatcha think they want? Some kinda _evil plot_? _Blood_, for the **sacrifice?!**”

“Oh, you know, I kinda thought the same thing!” Juri said, which finally shook her out of her own stunned state. Zenji turned and looked at her like she was stupid. “What?”

“Well, my goodness. I guess great minds think alike!” The woman put her hands on her hips and puffed her chest, grinning proudly.

With all that said, though, they gave this woman the rundown. “Thirteen! That's an awful unlucky number,” she said. “Ain't that rude to folks what're triskaidekaphobic?” This is a word that means 'extremely superstitious regarding the number thirteen', seen in such forms as the famous horror movie series _Friday the 13th,_ or some buildings skipping from the twelfth to the fourteenth floor. A number of people on the island could have told you what this word meant- I, obviously, am one of them- but the majority of the people in this group were left to wonder whether she had just spoken English, Japanese, or some sort of mangled creole of the two.

“You've been kidnapped and you're worried about their _manners_?” Zenji asked.

“Well, sure enough.” The woman sternly nodded. “My daddy raised me up good, dagnabbit, and I ain't gonna take bein' rude like that lyin' down! I oughta have a word with their manager.”

Mai's quiet stare finally broke. “Yes,” she said, “that sounds like a perfectly good idea, if we can find them.”

“...so I'm really the last one out?” The woman rubbed the back of her head awkwardly. “Aw, shucks. Y'know, usually I'm a mornin' person, I swear. I'm so sorry to keep y'all waiting, but I'm here now!” She put her hands together and wiggled her fingers a little. Anzu looked vaguely like she was being smothered.

“So, what's your name?” Minato asked.

“...My name?” The woman blinked. She, very slightly, glanced at Mai. “Oh! Right! Forgot to tell y'all my name! Hehe, my bad, sorry.” She clonked herself lightly on the head and stuck her tongue out.

“I mean, I had a panic attack, you're doing fine, I guess?” Juri blinked.

With a beaming smile, the woman leaned forward and said, “My name's Bella- **Bella Duke**!” Grinning and showing her pearly white teeth, she giggled and added, “It's a pleasure.”

Smiling in return, Mai extended a gloved hand and said, “It's nice to meet you, Ms. Duke.”

And at the moment those hands met-

* * *

“_Excuse me! Would all thirteen participants please head to the front of the manor?_”

This declaration was perfectly audible across the grounds, so all thirteen were able to hear it. The group on the third floor headed down, and the group on the deck headed over. Soon-

Thirteen people stood at the front of the manor. “Whoo-wee,” Bella said, batting eyes at Wataru, “now who's _this_ tall glass o' water?”

“Good, you found the last one.” Wataru nodded at Mai and the rest, and then turned his attention to Bella. “No offense, but I prefer to think of myself as something a bit tangier. Orange juice, maybe?”

“Ain't no problem with that.” Bella nodded. “Now, if I had to place myself, I'd call myself a nice, tall glass of non-alcoholic apple cider, though maybe with a bit of extra sweetener on account of I've got a sweet tooth somethin' awful.”

“Er.” Park raised his hand. “Would- would you be drinking yourself, in this metaphor? I'm not- I don't think it quite tracks...”

“Are we drinking ourselves now?” Saori sleepily blinked. “I'm coffee, then. Cream. Two sugars.”

“Surely that can't be _all_ you drink, Ms. Aoyama,” Tsukihi cut in. “You'd become horribly dehydrated.”

Ignoring this remark, Saori continued by pointing at Zenji. “He's coffee, too, but it's black coffee.”

Zenji sighed very, very loudly, and rolled his eyes. “Fine. Sure. I'm black coffee. What the hell are you talking about?”

Kenichiro was briefly distracted as he'd walked out, but had returned to himself quickly enough that it was not too noticeable. “You think they'll let me play _hooky_?”

With mutual looks of disdain and their heads on their fists, Juri and Anzu turned to each other and very loudly groaned. “Be careful of this one, Anzu,” Tsukihi warned. “He's suspicious.”

Anzu briefly had a look on her face that said she was considering getting closer to Kenichiro to spite her mother, but then thought better of it from the force of his dad bod and inappropriately appropriate attire. “...Anyway.”

“It's a very diverse group of people, isn't it?” Zoe observed, twirling a lock of her hair. “Mr. Fuyutsuki, Ms. Duke, do either of you have any knowledge?”

“Not a clue, Doc.” Bella pressed her finger to her temple. “None 'a this... well, no, wait, somethin' about that name on the plaque does ring a little bell...” She audibly made a noise of thought. “Kyosuke Ayana, huh... Hm. Hmmm.”

At the sound of the name, Zenji's eyes flickered briefly away. Juri said, “Yeah, the name sounds a _little_ familiar, I think...”

“Whoever the kid is,” Kenichiro said, one hand on his neck, “he's a stiff now, right? Says he died ten years ago.”

“At only seventeen years old...” Zoe looked downwards. “What a tragedy.”

“Yeah, that's a real bummer,” Minato agreed. “But, hey, at least his sibling built him this sweet mansion, right? That's a bonus!” He grinned, and put his hands behind his head.

“Why would he want a mansion after he's dead?” Juri retorted.

“Mm, actually, mummies- from ancient Egypt, I mean- were buried in their sarcophagi with objects that they wished to carry into the afterlife,” Park chimed in. He removed his cap to briefly fan himself, as he'd been sweating for some time now. “It could be something of _that_ nature.”

“Ooh, now that's awful spooky!” Bella shivered. She turned her head to Mai, who was standing, again lost in pensive thought. “You been awful quiet, Mai.” Bella wiggled her fingers at the younger girl and grinned. “You spooked by mummies and coffee?”

“No, sorry.” Mai shook her head. “I was just wondering why we've been brought to the front. Our captors have yet to make themselves clear, and nothing appears to have changed.”

At about that moment, Anzu and Tsukihi both seemed to have the same thought- that of checking on Ryo, who had been quietly staring at the plaque the whole time. However, when Anzu saw that her mother was also doing so, she huffed, stopped, and turned away. “...Ryo,” Tsukihi said, pushing aside the conflict on her face, “this mansion's name, 'Zephyr-Lily'- do you know what it means?”

The small boy turned and looked up at Tsukihi, nodding his head. “_Zephyranthes_, a genus native to the Americas. Commonly called 'zephyr lilies,' but also 'rainflowers', 'fairy lilies', and other names. Hardy. Called 'lilies', but they're actually in the amaryllis family.”

“Should I be taking notes?” Saori yawned.

“Rainflowers have three meanings.” Ryo gingerly grasped at a petal off of the entry archway- evidently, these were the promised 'rainflowers'. “First, 'I love you too'. Second, 'I will never forget you'.”

“That's an awful romantic flower!” Bella's arms flared out behind her. As she said that, though, Ryo's eyes grew dark. “Aw, sorry, I jumped the gun, didn't I.”

“Third-” Ryo began.

Then a TV screen burst out of the earth on a pole in front of the entry archway,

causing Ryo to jump back and yelp in fright. Tsukihi grabbed him to ensure he didn't harm himself during the leap.

“Whoa, that's impressive automation!” Minato jumped himself, but he looked more impressed than anything.

The reasonably jovial mood grew tense in an instant as this sudden arrival's screen flickered to life, projecting static for a moment before proclaiming, with an angel-winged logo, a broadcast by 'SHTV'. On the screen was a small, light blue newsroom, whose back screen projected an overhead view of Zephyr-Lily Mansion. “Welcome to scenic Zephyr-Lily Mansion and its surrounding grounds!” a chipper, androgynous voice called out. “Now that you've gotten to know each other a bit and explored around, it's really high time we talked to you a bit ourselves.” This voice huffed. “Gee, Nagisa, couldn't we have done it earlier?”

“In fairness, I wasn't expecting Ms. Duke to take so long to leave her room,” a second voice- and this one was certainly a woman's- responded.

“Come on, you're the owner, aren't you?” the first voice said. “You need to take responsibility! They've been wandering around for ages, lost and confused, like little lambs bereft of their God!”

“...What are you _doing_?” Wataru blinked.

“See? Now Wataru's getting mad at us,” the first voice huffed. “Shouldn't you put us on the screen already?”

“You're the one with control of this footage,” the second voice, 'Nagisa', replied.

There was a brief moment of awkward silence before the first voice shouted, “Oh my gosh, I totally forgot!”

If this bizarre routine (to which Juri groaned and said, 'god, it really is Zanki Zero') was confusing before, it only became moreso when, on the left side of the newsdeck, a CGI model of a diminutive anime angel with silvery-blonde hair and white robes appeared in a flash of light, taking a seat on the left. “Greetings, sinners! I'm **Phanuel, the Angel of Judgment**!” Phanuel said, raising a hand and smiling brightly.

“...Yeah, I'm not drunk enough for this.” Kenichiro sighed.

“'Enough'? Is there- is there alcohol somewhere?” Park asked. “May I please have some, I'm also not drunk enough for this.”

“Geez, you'd think you guys had never seen an angel before.” Phanuel cutesily huffed, with little puffs of smoke arising from its head. “And after we built that nice statue of me...!” It began to sob comically large tears.

“You appear to have lost something in the transition,” Tsukihi responded.

“It's important for the demographics.” The owner of the second voice then, in comparison, strolled completely normally and took her seat at the right. This was an actual human woman, whose hair hung in low, black twintails. Most striking about this woman was the fact that a good half of her face, and her left hand, were completely wrapped in bandages- only one visible, piercing red eye could be seen. She appeared to be in her thirties somewhere, with ramrod-straight posture and half of a rather stony, expressionless face. This woman was tall- though how tall was unclear given the perspective- but lanky, with thin, bony arms visible from underneath a black turtleneck sweater. “There are children here.”

“You-?!” Zenji couldn't keep his mouth shut long enough to not react in shock.

“...Are you two acquainted?” Mai asked.

“We've met,” the woman said. “As you've no doubt guessed, my name is **Nagisa Ayana**. I'm the owner of this mansion, and the one who's brought you here.”

There was a moment of silence before Juri said, “Wait, you're just... saying it like that?”

“Would you prefer I retracted this statement and had you run around like headless chickens looking for an objective, Ms. Sonohara?” Nagisa asked, and Juri went silent.

“...Yeesh, Nagisa.” Phanuel threw its hands up. “Have you no hospitality?!”

“I've never been good at playing good cop,” Nagisa responded.

Bella raised her hand, and said, “'Scuse me, the friendly angel on the left, are you a boy or a girl?”

This question seemed to give Phanuel pause, and it stopped to cross its arms. “Um... maybe? I mean, canonically, angels are supposed to be genderless, but...” It trailed off, and tapped its chin. “Can I get back to you on that?”

“Oh, sure, sure, take your time.” Bella nodded.

“Do. Do we have time?” Minato blinked. “I'm kinda confused.”

“Please don't rush me!” Phanuel blushed and threw its arms up. “These are hard questions!”

“No, no, I sympathize, really...” Minato awkwardly gave a thumbs up.

“Phanuel, please explore gender on your own time,” Nagisa said. “My partner and I are here to inform the thirteen of you what you'll be doing on this island. Obviously, there are no manners of escape. I have no intention of forcing you to stay here permanently- this stay, while extended, is not permanent.”

“What if we built a boat?” Wataru asked.

“You could try, but I wouldn't recommend it,” Nagisa answered. “It wouldn't get you much of anywhere except very lost.”

It was Zoe who spoke up next. “Why have you kidnapped us, then? Do you intend to kill us?”

“Oh, come on, don't be such a worrywart!” Phanuel cried. “Listen-”

“That is _not_ a yes or no answer,” Tsukihi snapped.

“We don't intend to kill anyone, would be your answer,” Nagisa said. “As to why I've kidnapped you... let's say, for now, that I'm attempting to _observe_ something, with this game. It isn't my job to explain any further than that- all that information is in _your_ heads, after all.”

“Wait, um, w-what do you mean, 'our' heads?” Park said. He put his cap back on and tugged on it slightly.

“It's a game of communication and trust!” Phanuel chimed in, glee in its voice. “Thirteen people getting to know each other, really getting in each other's heads-”

“-or, in other words, you could refer to this as a game about your _darkest secrets_.” Nagisa steepled her fingers. “All thirteen of you- I _know what you did_.”

At that moment, several things occurred at once. Saori went completely rigid, beginning to full-body shudder, and dropped her mug on the ground, unable to prevent it from shattering. Wataru looked down, grimacing. Park's grip on his cap grew tighter, and he huddled closer to the ground. Minato chuckled nervously, sweating, though he still had an awkward grin on his face.

“Don't you screw with me!” The previously-lackadaisical Kenichiro's voice turned to a roar as he snarled, his flailing arms almost striking the sputtering, stammering Juri, who could form no such words. Anzu's reaction was one of open-mouthed horror, her face going obviously pale, as her hands clawed at the air for some salvation. Tsukihi glared in stony silence before snorting out of her nose, gritting her teeth, and balling her fists. Zenji clicked his tongue and turned away, crossing his arms and refusing to look at anyone else.

Ryo had begun to wail under his breath, clutching his beanie further down onto his head such that it blocked his eyes. Zoe, too, averted her eyes, clutching at the left side of her face with one hand. Mai glared, her eyes steel, at the screen, and her hand again went to her hip, but found herself lacking, and froze, her arm beginning to shiver. Bella clutched at her own arms, as though hugging herself, and whimpered, “I-I... I don't...”

“If you think I'm bluffing, go ahead and call me,” Nagisa said. “I'll tell them all right here, right now- all of these people will learn what you did.”

“I'm not the Angel of Judgment for nothing, kids!” Phanuel chimed in once more. “I'm sure you can all get through this! Trust is the name of the game- well, actually, that's a lie.”

The aerial view of the mansion disappeared, and the screen changed to a brightly-colored, flower-decorated logo. “To you thirteen special people...” Phanuel said...

Here on this island, where the ocean waves played their music, were thirteen whose tales would now be brought to light.

The Liminal Child-

The Lackadaisical Prince-

The Dark Lord, on their Throne-

The Once and Future Sovereign-

The Ugly Duckling-

The Indolent Witch-

The Eternal Bystander-

The Scion of Disaster-

The Wretched Explorer-

The Mask of Steel-

The Great and Terrible Force of Nature-

The Waltzing Phantom-

And the Lonesome Affliction-

Ryo had not had the chance to say the third meaning of the rainflower at the time,

but along with its two more romantic meanings, it carries a third meaning.

'I must atone for my sins'.

“**Welcome to Sinner Hunter**!”

Thus the curtain rose on the crusade

of a nameless samurai amidst a field of rainflowers.

_-Rainflower Game, Part 1-_

_-Thirteen Sinners-_

_~Fin~_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're the sort of person who enjoys exact birthdays, heights, and a few fun facts, you can find them regarding the Thirteen Sinners here:
> 
> https://pastebin.com/yzJt12Ua


	5. Welcome to Sinner Hunter, 1 ~ Persons of Interest

“And... there.” I decisively planted my finger on my laptop's enter key, and summarily received the requisite digital receipt.

“It's done?” Mai asked, right over my shoulder. “It's done, we did it?”

I beamed. “We did it!”

Placing the laptop on the coffee table, I stood up, and the two of us started idiotically grinning at each other. This was somewhat out of character for me at the time, but Mai's enthusiasm was infectious, so there was little I could do other than be swept up in it.

“Why is this always such an achievement?” I asked, laughing, as we hopped around a bit in our glee. “We've done it before!”

“I think it's because the lives of adults are very difficult!” Mai responded.

—To actually explain this situation, as Mai is a stage magician herself, she naturally held a great deal of enthusiasm for the craft. In particular, she held one magician as her idol and inspiration above all: a pioneer of the stage magic renaissance, one Mr. Ozymandias Crowley, which, astonishingly, was not a stage name (a fact I still occasionally find myself surprised by).

Mr. Crowley was having a showing at a nearby venue, by a bar which Mai and I had frequented for some time. (We were underage when we'd started visiting it, mind you, and I pride myself on a clear head—it was not for drink, but for work.) On our disposable income range, some of his larger shows were out of our reach, but the man had a history of still taking small gigs even years into a successful career, so we jumped at the chance to grab any shows we could.

While we were understood personnel in the area and could get in easily even without prior purchase, there was nevertheless a sort of tension to purchasing our way in beforehand to ensure that it was not packed before we got in. The relief of obtaining front-row seats gave way to the excitement of going to the show in the first place—and thus, hopping around in our glee.

“Alright!” I stopped and forcefully clapped my hands together. “That isn't for a few days. Next on our itinerary, we must fetch the broom.”

“Aww,” Mai said, a cute whine of disappointment in her voice, “we couldn't exult for a bit longer, Yamada-_san_?”

“I am not of a religious inclination,” I said, “but I believe it was John Wesley, in 1778, giving voice to a sentiment found in ancient religious texts, who said, 'cleanliness is next to godliness'.”

Mai giggled. “Quoting old men doesn't make it sound any more appealing.”

“But you're going to listen to me, and we're going to do it, no matter how unappealing it sounds,” I said. “Otherwise, our floor is going to look like the bottom of a barn, and it'll drive me absolutely batty.”

“You're so disciplined, Yamada-_san_.” Mai gazed at me with a gleam in her eyes. “How do you manage it?”

“My mind has been sharpened a thousandfold by strict training regimens,” I said, posing with my sword as I did so. “It is only natural that I—”

“Is it the anime?” Mai asked, and while I would like to tell you that this thought did not make me turn bright red and sputter, that would be a lie on my part.

“W-w-well,” I stammered, “I, uh, I won't say—I definitely will not say that the anime is not part of my... strict training regimens. It's multifaceted—you know that.”

—Incidentally, the actual cleaning had begun about when I was halfway through quoting John Wesley. This was simply the regular process of chores around Apartment 408.

With a small “Yoisho!”, Mai put on her apron to begin doing the dishes in the sink. It was a floral-print apron, stitched with multi-colored yarn, that had originally belonged to Mai's late mother. She began humming a happy tune to herself as she got to work. “Say, Yamada-_san_.”

“Yes?” I asked. The smile on her face was downright radiant, and as I hovered by her side, I couldn't help but be taken in.

“They say that if you make that noise too often, it means you're getting old.” Mai put one finger, already slightly ridged from the water, on her lip. “Do you think that means that I'm getting old?”

“No, I believe _your_ yoishos are quite the opposite—an expression of youthful vitality.” I chuckled to myself. “You're nineteen, Mai.”

“But if getting old means your bones become brittle...” Mai said, scrubbing away at a plate with plastic yellow gloves on, “w-what'll happen to me, Yamada-_san_? I'm already—”

“Oh, stop it.” I smiled and laughed, rolling my eyes. “You aren't going to suddenly crumble to dust in your twenties. Or your thirties or forties, for that matter.”

“But I'm doomed in my fifties?!” Mai squeaked, clutching the tiny form of a now-clean spoon to her chest. My silence got her to crack within a few instants, though, and she started giggling to herself again. “Sorry for using you as a prop, spoon-_san_.”

“I'm sure spoon-_san_ doesn't mind,” I replied.

—I loved nothing more than this; these calm, peaceful, mundane moments between Mai Orihara and Yuki Yamada. When I heard her laugh, when I understood the happiness these moments brought us both—

“...You and I will never be apart,” I said, my voice soft. Mai made a small noise.

After a moment of silence, Mai nodded, gazing at the clean rack of drying dishes. “...Yuki. Let's stay together forever.”

“Yeah— oh, that's right.” I snapped my fingers. “What should we do for dinner?”

* * *

_ **Movement 1: The Lackadaisical Prince** _

_Once upon a time, amidst the flames, a young woman made a choice._

_She chose a boy, and that boy did not truly appreciate what that choice meant._

_No—it would be more accurate to say he resented that choice. Thus did the boy become the Prince._

_The Prince was lackadaisical, frivolous, towards the woman. She loved him dearly, and yet time and again, the Prince took for granted that love, felt spite towards it._

_No matter how much he loved the woman himself—_

_The Prince was foolhardy. Overconfident. Prideful and spiteful in equal measure._

_And it was the Prince's pride which took up the blade—_

_and grievously wounded the woman towards whom he felt so much spite._

_The Prince cried, “No, I didn't want this! I didn't want any of this!”_

_And the woman asked, “What did you not want?”_

_And as the Prince thought on this, the answer that came to his lips was just one word—_

_“Anything...”_

_Thus did the Prince know the name of the Angel of Judgment._

-'The Book of the Queen', Ninth Report

* * *

—“'Sinner Hunter'?” Zenji scoffed.

“Sinner Hunter! Welcome to it!” Phanuel responded, fluttering its wings a touch to accentuate this gesture. “Most of you would describe yourselves as sinners, right? To some degree, at least. Oh, well, if any of you wouldn't, you can raise your hand and I can explain it!”

“What?” Nagisa grimaced.

“Well, if they're confused, that's not good! Do you _want_ your planning to fall on deaf ears?” Phanuel said, tilting its head. “I'm the Angel of Judgment, _I_ know what these people have done. So raise your hands! C'mon, I swear I won't bite! I don't have actual teeth!”

It was at this moment that it truly sank in what situation I was in: of the thirteen people gathered in front of this television monitor, exactly two hands went up. One belonged to Mai Orihara, raising her hand confidently with a stern gaze, and the other, shaking, looking uncertain, belonged to Ryo Kawashima. Ryo's eyes darted around, and he visibly relaxed when he saw he was not the only one whose hand was raised.

“Oh, Mai and Ryo!” Phanuel said, smiling. “Thanks for being honest, guys. Now-”

Nagisa reached over and grabbed Phanuel's tiny arm with her right hand, visibly frowning. “_Phanuel_.”

“Kyaaaah!” Phanuel wailed. “Why did you even put me here if you don't want me talking?!”

“I was just going to remind you to remember why we are _here,_” Nagisa said, pointedly loosening her grip, “before you continue speaking.”

“Well, _I_ was _just_ gonna tell them,” Phanuel said, huffing and turning back towards the camera, “not to worry about it too much. If you two don't have anything you think you need to worry about, that's great!”

Mai frowned, pursing her lips. “I have plenty to worry about, I'm just not sure what you'd directly call a 'sin', necessarily. Do I not keep my apartment clean enough, Nagisa-_san_? Did I perhaps aggravate your allergies during one of my shows? Have I been eating too much? Perhaps I stole a ticket from you through speedy buying and prevented you from heading to an event you wished to go to? Are you incensed at my occasionally thinking I would like my neighbors' nice vacuum cleaner?”

“Hey, Mai!” This shook Juri from being stunned at the tackiness of the logo and their captors' dynamic into swiveling around, clapping her hands a few times, placing her hand on her forehead, and then immediately removing said hand. “Why are you antagonizing the crazy lady?”

“I'm not antagonizing, I'm genuinely asking.” Mai blinked. “She appears to be going for an Abrahamic trend of some sort, considering the angel, and most commonly people who attempt that sort of bent wind up trending towards the Christian 'seven deadly sins', which include such things as pride, envy, gluttony- though I question the use of the Book of Enoch, considering that it is generally considered non-canonical in the vast majority of Jewish and Christian denominations.”

“Wait, am I non-canonical?” Phanuel turned and asked Nagisa. “You didn't tell me I was non-canonical!”

Nagisa, for her part, was grimacing, narrowing her eye at Mai. “..._No_, I am not- _must you_, Ms. Orihara?”

“I'm sorry, Nagisa-_san_, I was just curious!” Mai said, her eyes widening, her hands waving. “I-”

“...What did- I do?” Ryo said, and though his voice was quiet, it was still plainly evident.

Mai's breath hitched, and she grasped at her left arm with her right hand. “Ryo!”

“I'm- I'm...” Ryo began to mouth to himself, 'hyacinth, hyacinth'. “I'm sorry. What did I do?” There were tears welling up in his eyes. “What did I do?”

With a heavy sigh, Phanuel frowned and said, “Nagisa, this isn't going well. Look how upset Ryo is.”

“I can _see_ him, Phanuel.” Nagisa pressed two of her fingers very hard into the center of her forehead.

“_What did I do_?” Ryo pleaded, reaching his hands towards the screen to try and grasp some sort of answer. He looked towards Nagisa and Phanuel, then Mai, then Kenichiro, desperation in his eyes.

“...Trust me when I say you have reason to be here, Mr. Kawashima—” The words out of Nagisa's mouth struck a tone which rang harsh with frustration. “—and that you will learn about it _in due time_.” This answer did not seem to satisfy Ryo, but he nevertheless quieted. “As will you, Ms. Orihara, though I have a feeling you're just being obtuse.”

Just to the side of the TV, a small box erupted from the ground as well, though Minato seemed less impressed the second time than he was concerned about the small, sniffling child. It opened to reveal a small slip of paper, and it was Wataru who made the step forward to obtain it.

“...'Movement 1, The Lackadaisical Prince',” Wataru read aloud. His frown was audible. “Once upon a time, amidst the flames, a young woman made a choice... dot, dot, dot... a few line breaks... 'Thus did the Prince know the name of the Angel of Judgment.'”

“Thanks, Wataru!” Phanuel breathed a sigh of relief. “That was getting pretty rough there for a minute. So, Sinner Hunter is a two-stage game. Right now, you guys have just entered the first stage!”

The backboard changed from the logo to an aerial view of the island itself, a roughly Y-shaped landmass. “This game will have thirteen rounds, one for each of you. On each round, you'll get the title of the Sinner you're looking for- in this case, the Lackadaisical Prince! There are clues hidden on the island about the Sinner and their sin and it's you guys's job to figure out who among you is the Sinner in question!”

“You have until midnight on the third day to determine each Sinner's identity and story,” Nagisa added. “I recognize that this will leave you with less time for this first round, but I don't believe the Prince will be particularly hard to find, in this case-”

“Thirty-nine days?!” Tsukihi stomped her foot into the dirt. “That's ludicrous! You can't keep us here that long!”

“...Uh, well, there's actually a day in between each round, so it's more like fifty-two,” Phanuel said, twiddling its fingers awkwardly. This did not make Tsukihi happier.

“No, Mrs. Itagaki, I assure you I can and I will,” Nagisa answered. “With that said, fifty-two is only the outer limit. Fewer rounds may be played depending on the results.”

“So we're going on a scavenger hunt,” Wataru said. He put a hand on his chin. “Okay. What happens if we don't figure it out?”

“That will become evident in the second phase, roughly fifty-six hours from now,” Nagisa said. “I will say for your benefit that there is a reason for the Sinner to attempt to disrupt the investigation or frame someone else, so if you believe you are the Prince, by all means, do as you please.”

“Other than not getting their sin discovered?” Wataru asked.

“Other than not getting their sin discovered, yes.” Nagisa nodded.

“Dirty poker to not explain all the rules right away, ain't it?” Kenichiro scoffed, raising an eyebrow, holding his fishing rod over his shoulder like a blade ready to swing.

“You will have up to twelve rounds after this one to utilize the full ruleset, Mr. Washizu. Forgive me for practicing dramatic suspense.” Nagisa rolled her eye.

“What if I don't?” Kenichiro smirked, glaring.

“Feel free to hold your grudge, but I will not be taking suggestions from the likes of yourself, _sir_.” Nagisa's eye fixed upon Kenichiro in a returned glare.

“Within the rest of the time, feel free to do whatever you like! It's a nice mansion, right?” Phanuel awkwardly chuckled. “Good luck, and happy hunting!”

“I-” Nagisa began, but at that moment the transmission cut out, the screen and box receded, and the holes in the ground filled themselves to leave the entrance to Zephyr-Lily Mansion seemingly untouched.

There was a long pause. “Um...” Park chimed in. “What just... happened?”

“A CGI angel and a lady with half her face in bandages argued with each other and told us to go on a scavenger hunt for people's backstories,” Minato answered.

“Yes, er, thank you, that is very correct.” Park nodded, perhaps one or two times more than was necessary. “But, well, I mean... what just-”

“Hey! Hey,” Bella said, waving her hands widely to get everyone to notice her. This was the first move that got Saori, who had been standing frozen to the ground the entire time, to actually take notice. “So, uh, that just happened. Now, I get y'all might not wanna listen to me, but I think we oughta take a bit to digest on our own instead of gettin' all in a tizzy, on account of I think we're all prob'ly a little heated up from that, so how's about we just, uh...”

“There's a dining room in the mansion,” Zoe said. “Why don't we convene there once we're all ready to discuss the situation? We seem to have time for it.”

“Ooh, there is?” Bella's hand flew up to her mouth, and her eyes took on a certain giddy gleam. “Ooh, ooh, there _is_ a whole darn mansion there, ain't there? 'Scuse me, fellas and ladies, Bella's got herself some landscapin' to do!” With a slightly unsteady spring in her step and a sparkle to her grin, Bella ran off into the front door before anyone had the chance to say much more than 'hey'.

After a moment's digestion, Tsukihi loudly sighed. “I suppose she's made the choice for us, then.” With a frustrated shake of the head, she said, “Don't go off too far, Anzu-”

“Fuck off, Mom,” the Anzu in question responded with a middle finger, having already turned and begun walking away.

“Heh, ouch.” Kenichiro laughed, and put his arm around Tsukihi. “I know that feeling.”

Tsukihi muscled his arm off. “Don't touch me.”

* * *

—For the sake of brevity, I shall skip here a period in which the rest of the group began to disperse. I would prefer not to concern myself _overmuch_ with minutiae of a situation which already often becomes so chaotic in my mind. I

I was afraid

Horribly afraid

A fear that I could not speak to anyone, save myself

Fear drives people to madness. Fear takes reality and distorts it, renders it a grotesque picture of one's own inner demons. Only forcing myself to speak could get me to move, to force myself into motion and create the actions necessary to perform as a 'person'.

I could not stomach my own fear. It felt as though the world was crashing down around me, as though, on this scenic island, the hand of the devil had reached up and clutched my chest to remind me of all the worst possibilities I had ever envisioned. I could hardly breathe, for that first half-hour after Nagisa's transmission.

Would I... be exposed? It felt inevitable, now. No matter how dreamlike the situation—

My reality had become my worst nightmare.

But I could do nothing but pathetically shamble forward.

* * *

Kenichiro Washizu was not a man who had not thought about sin before. Perhaps not in such lofty terms, but he was the sort of man who would self-describe as a 'pretty bad guy', so to speak. On some level, it was not a surprise to him that a crazed kidnapper bent on capturing 'sinners' would have their eyes on him.

With a heavy sigh, he craned his head over to the water, where the sunset had begun to dye the sky a brilliant hue of orange. “...Sinner Hunter,” he snorted out. Then he let loose a proper chuckle, shaking his head and placing his right hand on the back of his head. “Aw, geez. What a story.”

It was then that he noticed someone making themself small against the fences by the beach, such that he'd almost missed her on first glance. Staring out dead-eyed across the water, Mai Orihara sat, curled into herself.

There was a moment of silence in which, I'm told, Kenichiro debated whether to approach her. She seemed rather quiet at the time, and were he to simply sit here on the sand, he could fish to his heart's content... not to mention, he was unsure whether she would _want_ to speak to him.

Eventually, he came to a conclusion, muttered a “Fuck it,” under his breath, and headed over to the fences, sitting down next to Mai, who, once her reaction time returned to her, gasped slightly. “Hey.”

“Er... W-Washizu-_san_,” Mai said, adjusting her glasses a touch. “Is- isn't this too far for you to cast your line?”

Kenichiro nodded. “Yup.”

“...I see.” Mai's posture slackened, and she uncurled somewhat from the ball she had been sat in, but she still took up quite a bit less space than Kenichiro, who had casually slouched against the fence, hunching over.

“Nice sunset, ain't it?” Kenichiro asked, and Mai nodded. “There are worse places I could be.”

“Such as?” Mai tilted her head.

“Eh, prison... a grave... my ex-wife's house...” Kenichiro grinned. “Class of 2008 high school reunion, now that's a nightmare.”

“That's very morbid,” Mai said.

“Yeah, class reunions usually are.” Kenichiro winked, showing his teeth. Mai didn't respond. “You were being sweet back there, but you can't stop the kid from being nervous in a situation like this. Nice thought, though.”

“...Washizu-_san_,” Mai muttered.

“Geez. 'Washizu-_san_',” Kenichiro scoffed. “Maybe I _was_ off...”

Collecting herself enough to respond, Mai responded, “If you're asking me something, I won't understand unless you say it in words.”

“Nah, forget it.” Kenichiro waved his hand. “Surely I couldn't be thinking of a cute, serious-looking young lady such as yourself. After all-”

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?” Mai said, raising her voice a bit.

“Oh, well, I just mean that this kid _I_ knew once was a runty little _crybaby_-”

“You shut up!” Mai leaned over to playfully shove Kenichiro in the arm, a tone of embarrassment in her voice. “Well- well, the _Kenichiro_ I knew didn't have a gut.”

“Well, please forgive me for losing myself in my old age. I'm at that age, you know.” Kenichiro grinned.

“You're fifty-three! You're still middle-aged!” Mai chided, her hands on her hips.

“Ahh, shit, my deadly secret!” Kenichiro placed his hand against his heart, leaning back, groaning in pain. “Damn, you really hunted that sinner!”

“You're a jerk, old man. Didn't your parents teach you not to bully kids?” Mai huffed.

“Aren't you legally an adult by now?” Kenichiro asked. “I mean, hell, you said you had an _apartment_.”

“I wasn't an adult yet when I got the apartment,” Mai said.

“What the hell are they having teenagers do these days?” Kenichiro said, another heavy sigh running through his body. “Especially one like you, you weenie.”

“Who says 'weenie' at your age?!” Mai's cheeks turned bright red. “And- and for your information, I am- I am _significantly_ more physically capable than I was when I was twelve! I think! I-”

Then, shifting in an instant, Kenichiro felt small arms around his torso, and Mai's front, glasses included, pressing against his side. “Kenichiro...” Her voice had shifted, too, grown softer again.

“...Good to see you, Mai.” Kenichiro responded by returning the hug. “How've you been?”

“Um... well...” Mai mumbled, but she offered little more.

“That's fine. It's probably been hard, right?” Kenichiro asked, and Mai nodded. “I barely recognized you. Could've said hi or something.”

“I couldn't, really... er, well, I could, but... I wasn't sure if _you_ would remember _me_, and with everything else going on at the time...” Mai was frowning down at the sand.

“Hey, it's fine. Not every day you get kidnapped by a mummy and a CGI angel. Also, I'm kidding.” Kenichiro paused. “'Mai', huh? How do you write it?”

“...Promise not to laugh?” Mai broke away from the hug, blushed, averted her eyes, and held her hands behind her back.

“Nope.” Kenichiro grinned. Mai produced a notepad and pen from somewhere amidst her dress that she had brought from her room, and demonstrated. Kenichiro did not laugh out loud, but he at least gave an earnest chuckle. “That's cute as shit, kiddo.”

“Stoooop!” Mai wailed, blushing a deeper shade of red and putting her hands on her head.

“Noooo!” Kenichiro said, in a poor falsetto imitation of her wail.

—“You're nineteen now, yeah?” Kenichiro asked, once their laughter from that little altercation had died down. “Yeesh. What does that make it, seven years?”

“Roughly,” Mai answered. She raised her hand up and waved it around. “Somewhere between that and six.”

“Time flies,” Kenichiro said, looking off towards the sunset with a wistful sparkle in his eyes, “time flies. A _magician_, huh? Not what I would've expected.”

“Well, what would you have expected?” Mai blinked.

“Ehh, working behind the counter at a McDonald's or something,” Kenichiro grinned. Mai playfully shoved him, and he laughed, but he did not elaborate any further on his actual answer. “Hey, back when I was a kid, the economy was shit. Everybody had to work some kind of service job because it was the only job anyone my age could get. Don't look down on that, Mai.”

“I'm not looking down on anything!” Mai huffed.

Kenichiro clutched his fist, narrowing his eyes. “I saw lots of good people go down off the side of Aisle 4... it's a bloodbath out there, Mai...” He started to sink backwards, his eyes glazing over. “The horror... the horror...”

“Kenichiro, no! Come back into the light!” Mai grasped him by the arms. “Don't fall into the depths of Africa!”

That gave Kenichiro pause, and he blinked. “...Africa?”

“Um.” Mai blinked back. “Yes, Africa. _Heart of Darkness_, Joseph Conrad. That's- that's what you were referencing just now.”

The sheer bewilderment in Kenichiro's eyes made Mai blush again. “Are you a _bookie_, Mai?”

“W-when have I ever not been a bookie?!” Mai responded.

“My charge, some kind of _nerd_...” The crying noises Kenichiro made were not very convincing. “I tried, doctor... I really tried...”

“How is this news to you?!” Mai shouted. “I- I...”

—And the tears began to fall. “K-Kenichiro... I...” Mai sobbed into his side. “I'm scared... oh, god, I'm scared.”

“I know.” Kenichiro nodded and held her closer, gently patting her back.

“I feel like I'm gonna die. I feel like I'm dead,” Mai said. “I don't-” She began attempting to steady her own rapid breathing. “Kenichiro-”

Kenichiro nodded, though Mai could only feel it from her vantage point in his side. “I know. I'm here, Mai.”

“Don't leave, okay?” Mai sniffled, still hyperventilating. “I don't wanna be alone right now.”

“I know.” Kenichiro nodded again. “I won't.” And this reunion after seven years apart continued in soft silence, bracketed only by a girl's small tears and the sound of the ocean.

* * *

Ryo Kawashima hated being alone. He hated it with all his heart, hated the sensation of being the only living thing nearby. The flowers were lovely- oh, how he loved flowers- but he missed having people around. Minato had offered to stay with him, but he wanted to find more people than just that, so he'd shaken his head and instead opted to try and follow Wataru and Park down to the mansion's basement.

Compared to the rest of the manor, as Ryo had seen, it was a rather small area- but to a boy as small as Ryo, it seemed much larger, like the house of a giant. There were a number of doors down here, in a sparse, wooden hallway that curved off to one side, but Ryo found himself most interested in one that seemed heavier than the rest. He knocked.

“That you, Park?” By process of elimination, that must have been Wataru.

Obviously, Ryo was not Mr. Park, but such a sentiment was hard to vocalize, especially through a door. What if Wataru didn't hear him? Ryo was, after all, a quiet young man, one with a fairly weak voice even at the best of times. “I-” he began, before opting to simply open the door.

Inside the door was a garage, with concrete floor, a shutter that presumably led somewhere outside the mansion, various tool closets for maintenance of cars that Ryo had no earthly idea of how to use, and other such miscellany. Wataru stood in the center, inspecting a car- or, no, that was an SUV, wasn't it? One of the sorts that could operate offroads. One of Ryo's friends called them 'jeeps'.

“Oh-” Wataru looked up from the jeep and was briefly surprised before smiling and nodding. “Hey, Ryo.”

“Hi,” Ryo responded, waving a little. He stepped further into the room and politely closed the door. There was light music playing, calming fare that reminded Ryo of at least one of the hospital rooms he'd been in, out of an old-fashioned boombox on a stool near the car.

“Sorry, got a bit distracted here,” Wataru said, still looking at the jeep. “I'm not a mechanic or anything, but this seems like a pretty solid vehicle. The island doesn't seem that big, but this'll make it a lot easier.”

“Good,” Ryo nodded.

“I'm not that interesting,” Wataru admitted. “You still wanna spend time with me?” After a moment's hesitation, Ryo nodded. Wataru smiled again. “Okay, sure.”

It was quiet, a sort of quiet Ryo didn't often experience. He meant no offense to Minato, but the man was much louder than Wataru, and while alone was frightening, quiet was good. Wataru kept inspecting the jeep, taking inventory of appliances Ryo had never even seen before in his life.

There was a curiosity to Ryo's gaze as he looked at Wataru. The man turned away from a tool closet, muttering, “Okay, yeah, that one's beyond me,” and saw that curious gaze. “Something up?”

Oh, no. Ryo's eyes instantly grew cloudy, and he cast his gaze downward. There _was_ something up, of course, but... er, how did you translate 'chickweed' to Japanese, again- “Ah, wait,” Wataru said, raising his hand. “That's vague. Are you curious about the tools or about me?”

Ryo's eyes lit up. A rose, bent to the left! “You, sir.” The answer was actually both, but one of them was more pressing, and could do the talking for him. Once he got over his happiness, though, he became a touch downcast again. “Um-” He started muttering himself, saying, “Red primrose, red primrose...” Red primrose, though, was a complicated sentiment to put into words. There was sadness, yes, that was relatively easy, but there was also... the other thing that was red primrose. He looked fearfully up at Wataru.

Wataru, though, had a patient smile on his face. “Take your time.”

Alright, so it was something to do with 'merit'. It would go easier if he didn't stammer through it so hard as he had been, and it would sound nicer, too. Merit, merit. 'Unpatronized'? 'Neglected'? Did Wataru's statement have merit? No, that wasn't right. It made Ryo feel red primrose- no, it didn't make him _feel_ red primrose, but it reminded him of times that _had_ made him feel red primrose. Towards _Wataru_, he felt hydrangea- wait, no, he thought, shaking his head, that was 'thank you for understanding', right. He was thanking Wataru for his understanding. Understanding of what? Well, Ryo's difficulty with words, naturally. It was that understanding that reminded him of feeling red primrose, or of moments that carried that association, because of the fact that Wataru had not-

Ryo lit up. “Um, people don't usually... wait for me, or... make those kinds of... allowances?” That was a word Ryo didn't use often, so there was a questioning lilt to it. “You're... very dock, sir.” Pause. “Patient. Very patient.”

“Ahhh,” Wataru nodded. “So you're surprised that I'm being understanding about your difficulty with words?”

“'Thank you for understanding',” Ryo said.

“No big deal,” Wataru said. “Giving you hell about that is your Japanese teacher's job.” He laughed, putting a hand on his forehead and shaking it, bending over some to look downward. “Tell you the truth, Ryo?” Ryo made a noise to urge him to continue. “Well, when I was your age, Japanese was my worst subject, too.”

“...Really?” People who could just _say words_ were really astounding to Ryo, and hearing someone mention difficulties with it was not common.

“Oh, yeah.” Wataru leaned against the hood of the jeep. “Totally lost me. I mean, you've got the words in your head, at least, right? It's just hard to translate.” Goodness, he was quick on the uptake. That was _impressive_, for a man who'd just met Ryo. “Me, I kept going, 'uhhh, you know, the that thing, that thingy, that- the- that- _that_,' about my own _toothbrush_. I didn't know what it was called in _any_ language. You're way better than me.”

Ryo remained quiet. “Then my older sister, she got kinda pissed about it because she wanted to be a Japanese teacher when she got old enough to do it, so she'd trap me in my room and force me to let her tutor me. 'No brother of mine' or whatever. She knew me better, though, so she had an easier time pounding it into my head- when I listened, at least, I didn't always.” Wataru paused. “I mean, it's not like anyone expects guys in my line of work to _talk_, so who knows how much it comes in handy, but.” He chuckled, shaking his head again. “I guess I'm rambling. You didn't really ask about that.”

Widening his eyes, Ryo leaned in a little. “Your sister?”

“...She's probably worried,” Wataru said, slumping down onto the ground. “I mean, yeah, we're both adults, she's not my keeper anymore, but-” Then he paused, his eyes widening slightly, and he turned to Ryo. “What about you, Ryo?”

After a moment of silence, Ryo looked down, and shook his head. “Mm-mm.” He sat down next to Wataru, curling into himself. “I-”

Without any warning, the quiet was interrupted by a loud knock on the door. “Mr. Nishikiyamaaa, I found the wine!” That was Park's voice, but louder than Wataru remembered it. “Would you like any?”

“No thanks, I don't drink.” Wataru raised his hands.

“Aw, not even a bit? It's a great time for it!” Park replied through the door. Ryo's face screwed up a little in confusion. “I- Why did you close the door?”

“Eh, politeness,” Wataru shrugged.

“That's very kind of you, I hope your parents are proud,” Park said.

With a heavy sigh, Wataru stood up and opened the door to find Park standing there, clearly _already_ more than a little intoxicated, with an open bottle in his hand. “Dude, you're seriously drunk already?”

“L-listen, sir.” Park waved his hand unsteadily. “Bad things happen when I'm sober, alright? Just _awful_ things. I'm drunk now, though, so it's alright. I- Oh, hello, Ryo.” Ryo waved in response. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No, sir.” Ryo shook his head.

“Oh, you're- you're right, you shouldn't drink if you're going to drive that car, should you,” Park observed. “And, well, I'd offer you some, Ryo, if-”

“_Dude_,” Wataru snapped.

“-_if_ he wasn't clearly far too young for that, I'm- I am attempting- I'm not _that_ irresponsible!” Park said, his stance widening. “I might be a mess of a man, yes, but Ryo certainly has a long, bright future ahead of him that I would never in my life think to tarnish by driving him down anything close to my own path in life. I mean, he's only- er, how old are you, Ryo?”

The room was silent for a moment, save for Wataru's music, still playing in the background. “I don't know,” Ryo admitted.

“We lose count earlier and earlier these days, I suppose,” Park said. “Well, however long it is, he has a much brighter future ahead of him than the likes of Jong-ki Park, sir. That one's _hopeless_, you know.”

Wataru's shoulders slumped. “Are you complaining about yourself in the third person?”

“_Hopeless_, Mr. Nishikiyama!” Park replied.

“I've known you for literally, like, three hours,” Wataru said. “Can we wait until the second date before you vomit your insecurities on me, please?”

“Certainly, but I have expensive tastes, sir. A second date is likely to be a great financial bur- No, no,” Park stopped himself, “I can't even finish that, that's- I've never even been on a second date.”

“I'm sure you'll get there,” Wataru said, and reached around to pat Park on the back, while also gently nudging him further out the door.

“Ah, right, right, I should go do... something, sorry for disturbing you, haha.” Park turned on his heel. “Don't be too late, you two! Who knows what Mrs. Itagaki might do in that case?” And he left down the hall, allowing Wataru to close the door behind him again.

A few moments' silence followed in which Wataru retook his position. Ryo twiddled his thumbs. “So-” Wataru began.

Ryo shook his head. “I... like the quiet.”

“Okay.” Wataru nodded. Ryo's brow furrowed, and Wataru's eyebrow raised. “You need something?”

The next moment, Ryo leaned over into Wataru's lap, his body shivering. “Ah, yeah. I gotcha,” Wataru said. Though his arms were a bit clumsy and unused to such behavior, he nevertheless did his best to gently hold Ryo and comfort the shaking young boy. “...I'm scared, too.”

“Mmhm.” Ryo nodded.

And the rest was silence aside from the sound of Wataru's music.

* * *

—Across the hall, behind a door that was just a bit cracked, Juri Sonohara couldn't help but overhear. It was a strange thing for her to do, but within this small storage closet she stood frozen, unable to move herself or reach to close the door- so all she had to hear was the sound of Wataru and Ryo.

Juri held a small photograph, idly trading it between her hands and twiddling her other fingers. “...Sister, huh.” Such words, words of family, tended to cause Juri's stomach to scrunch up with a strange knot of feelings she had a hard time putting into words. The silence was calming, in a way, as she tried vainly to regain her bearings.

It was not an unfamiliar photograph. One of its two subjects, after all, was one Juri Sonohara, with parts of her otaku ensemble; prescription otaku-standard spiral glasses, enthusiastic headband, a bag full to bursting with merchandise. 2041's Winter Comiket; it was a Comiket Juri well remembered as a day she'd enjoyed quite a bit.

Juri growled to herself. “No, come on.” She smacked her own face with one hand. She was an adult, after all- these sorts of issues were things she should be able to deal with on her own by now, right? She was twenty-four! She needed to get out of her own head!

Raising the photograph and looking at it, Juri then put on a higher-pitched voice to say, “'What are you doing, standing in a closet and looking at that photo like a weirdo? I know I'm a beautiful genius, but staring is weird, _onee-chan_.'”

“Give me a break, here, I've been kidnapped and... stuff, and... you know,” Juri responded to herself. Then she paused. “Oh, fuck, I'm losing it.”

The other subject of this photo was a small young girl in a wheelchair, sixteen at the time of the photo, with a vivid, dark head of green hair twisted into low-braided twintails. Despite how much taller Juri was than her, though, the younger girl, even in this photo, carried a strong presence of some sort. She had a tendency towards obnoxious but endearing smugness, but in this photo she smiled very genuinely; a large part of the reason why Juri found this particular photo so meaningful to begin with.

“Why is this even here...?” Juri asked, trailing off for a moment, holding the photo close. “What's this supposed to mean? Why...”

She went silent again, and clutched the photo closer, close enough that she could no longer see it. “Sachi... what am I gonna do?” The still image of the girl named Sachi offered no answer.


	6. Welcome to Sinner Hunter, 2 ~ Come Alive

—Down the stairs from the third to the second floor of Zephyr-Lily Mansion, a certain woman took her descent with an impressive amount of enthusiasm. Clapping to herself and dancing between stairs, Bella Duke sang, “_'Cause you're just a dead man walking, thinkin' that's your only option~_”

“_But you can flip the switch and brighten up your darkest day~!_” The unsteadiness in her gait had vanished, replaced with grace that was not that of a professional dancer, but the quick shuffles of feet down the stairs she managed were evident of at least some understanding of the fluidity of the human body. Bella spun her arms together in a cycle, bending herself back as she slid forward on her feet and then threw her arms wide as though she were an ice skater nailing a particularly stellar landing.

“_Sun is up and the color's blinding, take the world and redefine it~_” Regathering herself, she performed a pirouette, spinning and letting a bit of the sunset's light sparkle off of her hair before stopping in a pose as though she were holding down a hat on her brow, punctuating this with a few finger snaps from her other hand. She gave her college best at moonwalking into the room, but she really just wound up walking backwards.

“_Leave behind~ your narrow mind~ you'll never—_” At that moment, though, Bella was stopped in her reverie by noticing that she was not actually alone. Saori had returned to her earlier position at her table, with a second mug of coffee, and her nose was again buried in a book. Bella spun on her heels again and leaned in, her hand on chin, an appraising stare on her features. “—ooh, whatcha doin', girlfriend?”

In comparison, the degree to which Saori did _not_ move was rather astounding. “Studying.”

“Ooh, I see, I see.” Bella nodded to herself, a catlike smile on her face. “It's Saori, right?”

“Mmhm,” Saori mumbled. She flipped a page.

“Whatcha studyin', Saori?” Bella leaned in just a bit closer.

“The discoveries and processes of renewable energy,” Saori answered. Her head tilted ever-so-slightly. “Why?”

“Aw, no reason.” Bella placed her finger on her temple. “Well, my daddy used to work at a geothermal power plant, ac-tually! Liked to say he was out makin' sure the house stayed on.” There was a pause. “You doing alright, sweetie?”

“Mmhm,” Saori mumbled. She took a drink of her coffee.

“'Course you know I ask on account of you seemed mighty spooked earlier,” Bella said, waving her hands around a bit, “and now you're sittin' up here bein' all quiet and studyin' and whatnot.”

“Studying is comforting,” Saori responded. “I like learning.”

“Well, that's admirable of you, sweetie!” Bella clapped, smiling. “Me, I was-”

“You talk a lot,” Saori said.

Bella stopped in the midst of her movement to respond. “I can talk less if you'd like.”

“No, it's alright,” Saori said. Bella took this opportunity to actually sit down next to her at the table.

“Well, alright, I just didn't wanna intrude, y'know,” Bella said, nodding her head. “It's a mighty big mansion for all the way out here, ain't it?” (Mmhm.) “Makes you wonder what kinda folks're crazy enough to do somethin' like this.” (Mmhm.) “Me, if I were makin' myself a beachside mansion, I'd make it a bit more sleeky-chic, plus place it in a nicer location where I can bring my friends easy. Y'know, assumin' anybody wants to come to _my_ mansion.”

“Would it have a disco ball?” Saori asked.

Bella scoffed in mock outrage. “Of course it'd have a disco ball, you think I'm some kinda rube, girl?”

“I don't really know,” Saori said. “We just met.”

That got Bella to stop, and let out an, “Oh yeah.” Then she took a moment to consider, pressing her finger against her temple, tapping her foot on the ground a few times. “Well, I for one hope we strike up a nice, long-lasting friendship, Saori!”

“That'd be nice,” Saori agreed.

Bella stopped, and took a moment to consider what she'd just heard. “...Wait, for real?” Her eyes widened, and she began leaning back.

Saori craned her head over to look at Bella and said, “Yes?”

The increasingly-wide eyes of Bella Duke began to sparkle, and her mouth curled into an open, overjoyed smile. She curled inward to place her chin on her hands before throwing her arms outward in her joy. “Wow! I ain't asked anybody to be friends in ages and it's already payin' dividends!”

Tilting her head slightly, Saori said, “You don't have any?”

“Well sure I do, but they're a bit few and far between, on account of folks find it a bit odd if some foreign country rube just comes up and asks to be friends, and I guess I ain't got the kind of looks what engender camaraderie?” Bella said.

At this point, Saori took a moment to look up at Bella's face, and then carefully scan up and down her body. Having known her, I'm sure Saori took in every detail of Bella's form in a reasonably clinical manner, her eyes meticulously gliding over each and every curve of the Nevadan belle's form. “I see,” she concluded upon conclusion.

“Aww, I remember my college days,” Bella said, a strange sort of wistfulness in her tone. “Now, that was a while ago... Had some darn good professors, I think, at least, and then you see folks all over campus, minglin', fraternizin', experimentin'. Did my best to fit in, but it can feel awful lonely when you ain't got nobody to spend time with on the weekends, huh?”

“Mmhm,” Saori said, returning her head to her book.

“Been a hot year or two since I actually used my degree for anything. You'd think they coulda at least stole _that_ so I could show it off to folks and they'd go, 'wowie zow, Bella, you really are a reasonably intelligent modern lady!', but no, instead they steal—” Then she stopped, and twiddled her fingers. “Stuff.”

“Oh. Did they steal those?” Saori asked. “I thought they just made perfectly exact replicas.”

There was a pause.

“What, y'aren't even gonna ask?” Bella huffed.

“It seems like you don't want to tell me what they stole.” Saori tilted her head.

“Well sure, I don't, but sometimes I like makin' people curious, ya hear?” Bella said, her hands on her waist. “You gotta give 'em a little somethin' to wonder about.”

“Do you?” Saori asked.

“Always seemed that way to me, at least,” Bella said. “Well, folks don't wanna hear _everything_ about you from the first conversation, anyhow. It gets all awkward, y'hear? Like, I remember one time I sat next to this fella at a bar, he's clearly already had a few rounds but slim pickins as far as seats, and he starts tellin' me about how his wife left with the kids cause he was tryna dig a hot spring under their house and he can't tell his folks he's broke on account of they think he's a millionaire oil tycoon—”

Saori was laughing. It was a small sound, but the smile on her face was unmistakable. Bella stopped in her tracks when she realized what was happening. “How did _that_ happen?” Saori giggled.

“Well, that's what I'm askin' him!” Bella threw her hands up. “You don't just come in and drop that in someone's lap no matter how drunk you are! I tell you, hun, _bars_.” She made a loud 'pfft' noise. “Roll of the dice whether you're gonna get peace or two hours of your life gone from folks who look like what you'd scrape off the bottom of your shoes.”

“Do good things ever happen at bars?” Saori asked. “I've never been.”

“Aw, sure they do,” Bella said, a fond, faraway look in her eye. “Well, uh... oh, but that's a bit of a long story, ain't it. I won't bore you with that, sweetheart.”

“Oh.” Saori's eyes went back down to her book once more.

—If any conversation were to have continued from this point, it was summarily killed when loud, angry footsteps began pounding up the steps. I'm told that the air of them could be described as having an icy smile that did a poor job disguising anger, and this was, in fact, exactly the face one Dr. Zoe Kitachi wore as she ascended the stairs. She craned her head towards the seats, and her eyes locked on Bella. “Ms. Duke. Just the woman I wanted to see.”

Bella fell back in her seat a touch, seeming almost imperceptibly to shrink. “Doctor Kitachi! Er, to what do I owe...” Dr. Kitachi's aura pushed her further into her chair. “...the pleasure?” Bella squeaked.

“Oh, you don't need to be worried,” Zoe said, shaking her head. “Can you use a gun, Bella?”

“A—” Bella blinked.

“A gun. A firearm designed for the rapid expulsion of solid projectiles through gas pressure, caused by the combustion of gunpowder.” Zoe folded her hands inwards. “They're illegal in Japan, you see, and I'm not the sort of person to go breaking that specific law. Can you use a gun, Bella?”

After a moment to register her question, Bella regained a bit of her poise. “Well, I reckon I can.” She pushed her finger onto her temple and tapped her foot. “My daddy taught me good how to use a shotgun, you dig? Rifles 'n handguns, too, but we just had a shotgun 'round the house-”

“Perfect.” Zoe, continuing to smile, leaned in, produced a handgun from her pocket, and placed it in Bella's hands, causing Bella to loudly sputter.

After a moment of wild flailing, Bella's posture stuck ramrod straight. “Pardon my insubordination, ma'am, but why's this happening?”

“Well, I seem to recall asking that people begin convening around an hour later in the dining room,” Zoe responded, “on account of the fact that we are on an _unknown island_ and should have a _plan_ before we charge off to further areas.”

Saori nodded. “Yeah. It's been forty-seven minutes.”

In response, Zoe walked over to the large window showing out to the front of the manor, by the stairwell, and gestured a hand outward, her icy smile turning into a dour frown. Looking down from the front of the manor to the path onward, Bella and Saori could see two figures having left the manor, charging off to who knew where. A man with a black ponytail and a girl with striking red hair—Zenji and Anzu. “I thought that my sentiment would be shared. Evidently, it wasn't. Come along, Ms. Duke. I would like to prevent the two of them from getting themselves killed in their wanderlust.”

“Ohhhh.” Bella's chest heaved in a sigh of relief. “I thought you were fixin' to go shoot 'em or something.”

“Having briefly chatted with her in the dining room, Mrs. Itagaki would probably disembowel me if I even thought of making that request,” Zoe said, and Bella nodded, because that made sense.

Over her shoulder, Bella looked back to Saori, still staring out the window. There was a certain look in her eyes Bella couldn't place. “Uh, sorry, Saori, gotta skedaddle!” She shrugged, then made to follow Dr. Kitachi, who walked startlingly fast when she was mad.

It came as something of a surprise, then, when Saori followed behind, but aside from a curious look, to which Saori just nodded, Bella asked nothing further.

* * *

—Zenji Fuyutsuki, thirty-three years old, had spent much of the past decade making certain that he was a worldly man capable of tackling many challenges. For instance, he now had far more knowledge of the cycle of farming radishes than a man of his lofty birth would normally possess. He could climb mountains if given the proper equipment. Though he had no formal training, he could hold his own in a brawl. He could tie a knot with the best of them, and still possessed his awards for his superb skill in tennis when he was younger, a skill second only to his main trade.

Indeed, Zenji was a man of many talents, a man who had weathered a great deal of adversity and come out stronger for it... but no amount of work could _completely_ cure his antisocial attitude as of yet, and it was frankly unlikely he would ever reach the point where he was good at dealing with teenagers.

“Go away.” Zenji huffed, stomping forth on the path, sand, grass, and rocks meeting each other in a shoreline that seemed endless, although the island really wasn't all that large. He decisively pumped his backpack, full of what survival items he could find in his brief looks around, and continued walking.

“If you don't wanna be around me, then go back yourself, douchebag.” Anzu snorted, and was probably still giving him that annoying look on her face. “Why are you going off by yourself, anyway?”

“Why are _you?_” Zenji asked.

“I'm not. I'm following you,” Anzu replied.

“I can see that,” Zenji said, frowning to himself. “Don't waste my time—” He stopped, sighed, stared up at the sky, and slumped before turning around. “Isn't that your mom back there? I— you're only eighteen, kid, c'mon.” Zenji began idly cracking his knuckles, gritting his teeth on one side of his mouth. “Go back to your mom or something, where it's safe.”

Anzu scoffed. “Nah. I don't wanna be there.”

“What am I supposed to say if you die and I have to bring you back, huh?” Zenji asked.

“She probably wouldn't even care,” Anzu said, and continued walking.

In what I'm told is a habit from his more performative days, Zenji turned his eyes away and looked to the side as though facing an invisible crowd, shoving one thumb at Anzu and blocking his mouth from her direction with the other, and said, “Just my fucking luck.” He threw his hands up, grumped, and continued walking as well. “I'm not unpacking that.”

“I didn't ask you to,” Anzu said. “Do _you_ want to talk about how you know the lady with the mummy bandages?”

There was a pause. “No,” Zenji responded.

“Then we're clear,” Anzu said. “We're walking because we don't want to talk.”

“Ugh, fuck,” Zenji groaned.

There was more there, Zenji knew, that he did not want to confront than just Nagisa Ayana. If this game lasted long enough, then—

And he thought to himself, _no_, this game would _not_ last long enough. He was going to jump through Nagisa's hoops and get himself out of here as fast as possible. Besides, he thought, the word 'lackadaisical' could hardly describe him at any point, even if he could be called a prince, and she had not yet even been a 'young woman'—

Zenji scratched the back of his head as he walked. Whatever was on this island would help him escape. It had to. He had to find a way off of this rock before this stupid game of Nagisa's got any further than it already had, which apparently included kidnapping him somehow—but no, he had a decent idea as to why she would kidnap him if she was into kidnapping as her particular predilection, but then, why kidnap these other people?

“You didn't even come with anything?” Zenji asked. Anzu was, indeed, bare. “Don't they teach you anything in school?”

“Nothing useful,” Anzu said. “Survivalism isn't my bag. Aren't you a singer or something?”

Zenji sighed loudly, bitterly, and said, “Yes.” Anzu nodded and mumbled a small noise, and the two continued walking in silence.

As previously mentioned, this island was roughly Y-shaped, and as the two of them came to the primary split in the road, it behooves me to explain that a higher path to the northwest, atop a higher cliff, led to what appeared to be some form of dilapidated library, which indeed had nothing behind it. Neither Zenji nor Anzu recognized the other building to the northeast just yet, just that it was much wider on the ground floor, but had fewer floors. “Which way you wanna go?” Anzu asked.

With a grunt, Zenji gestured towards the unknown building. “I'm not in a reading mood right now.”

But then, stopping to have this discussion did indeed mean they stopped, which meant that the motor vehicle sounds finally began to reach their ears. Zenji turned his head over his shoulder to see a jeep charging directly at them, and jumped. He was, I'm told, just about ready to book it until he saw the driver—an icily smiling Zoe Kitachi, with Bella riding shotgun and Saori sitting quietly in the back.

(Incidentally, Wataru had offered to drive them when Zoe came down to use the jeep, but the jeep only had a maximum capacity of two in the front seat and three in the back seat unless one were to compress Ryo even further, so those two had instead been left to their own devices.)

With the jeep screeching to a halt in front of the two runaways, Bella let loose a proud, “Howdy, y'all!” with a chipper wave. Unlike Dr. Kitachi, her smile was no doubt completely genuine, knowing her.

“Mister _Fuyutsuki_.” Zoe opened the car door and stepped out, a vein visibly throbbing on her temple as she enunciated every single syllable of his name with the greatest emphasis. “How lovely to see you.”

“...Mmrgh.” Zenji slightly recoiled, but said, “Uh... it's Dr. Kitachi, right?”

“That's correct, Mr. Fuyutsuki.” Zoe's aura continued to expand over his field of influence, as Anzu stood in the background, blankly blinking. “Now, we agreed to meet in the dining room, yes?”

“I didn't agree to anything,” Zenji retorted.

“That's correct, you didn't. So it was in fact your prerogative to go off and do whatever you liked—and if you were alone, that would be one thing, of course. Anzu here, though, she's only eighteen, and reckless endangerment of a teenager in your crusade to get yourself killed is slightly more worrying.” Zoe's posture was ramrod stiff, and the left half of her face twitched upwards.

“She didn't—” Zenji sputtered.

Zoe continued inching forward into his space. “You are thirty-three years old, sir, and I can tell by the look of you that you've spent quite a bit of time on this earth learning its more dangerous and physically taxing elements, but _apparently_ I'm the only one here who's worried about the fact that we've been kidnapped to an unknown island where death could wait at _any turn_, as we don't even know our captor's motives or the rules of this supposed 'game'. Say there was a deathtrap in that building over there, a themed deathtrap towards our 'sins' like this were the _Saw_ series, have you seen those, sir? Now, what would you do, hm? Would you really like to just charge in on your lonesome without any heed for the danger?”

“I—”

“And _you_, Miss Anzu,” Zoe said, turning her head slightly and placing Anzu in her zone of influence, “must understand that even though you're obviously in that rebellious phase of teenagerhood where you believe you are, as they say, 'hot shit', and can do anything, that we are _on an unknown island where danger, **lethal danger**, _could arise at any time, and even if you find your mother uncomfortable to deal with, that it's much preferable to the loss of your life at such a young age.”

“Wha—” Anzu started back, beginning to sweat.

“Now, perhaps the two of you have no regard for your own lives, and if you do, I'm sure we can unpack that later from a psychological standpoint. Perhaps we can begin a mutually beneficial relationship of psychological betterment. However, your cursory searches of the manor obviously did not show you that there was a vehicle or a gun, even, so whatever preparations you have made, Mr. Fuyutsuki, are obviously insufficient. The two of you should be ashamed of yourselves for not only endangering your own lives needlessly, but sloppily as well, and should probably just get in the back of the jeep so we can make a proper expedition of it if you are _so _dead set on jumping the gun to get to work.”

It took a few seconds before Zoe's now-satisfied smile cued everyone into the idea that she was, in fact, done speaking. A long enough time passed that she added, “Are we clear?”

“Uh—” Zenji mumbled. “Mm—”

“Ah, mmhm, uh...” Anzu mumbled, and the two of them mutually looked at each other and performed an exchange of mumbled agreement, head-nodding, and generally falling in line to the mighty Dr. Kitachi.

“Mm. Yeah. Uh, yeah,” Zenji nodded, giving a reluctant thumbs up.

As Zenji meekly slunk into the side of the jeep, having been utterly defeated by someone talking back to him at all like a mighty warrior, Bella leaned over and stage-whispered, “Dang, girl's got some fire in her, don't she?”

“I-I don't want to talk about this,” Zenji mumbled. He opened the car door, and after blanching a bit, slid in next to Saori. Anzu, for her part, though she looked a bit more visibly frustrated, slid in on Saori's other side, creating a fun-size Saori sandwich in the backseat.

“Hi, Ulrich,” Saori said, with a small wave.

Having been soundly defeated in every way, Zenji could do nothing but put his elbow against the jeep's window, sigh, and say, “Don't— don't call me that.”

“Oh. That's not your name?” Saori blinked. Anzu rolled her eyes in the background. “Wait. It's Zenji, right?”

After a brief pause, Zenji gave a light nod, looking out the window at the ocean. “Yeah.”

“Alright, children,” Zoe said, taking the driver's seat and looking in the back, “we were heading east, yes?”

“I guess,” Zenji said. “I— wait, _children_?”

“Oh, god.” Anzu rolled her eyes.

“There's no way you're older than me,” Zenji said, shaking his head and rubbing his temples. “These girls, maybe—”

“Aww, Mr. Fuyutsuki, are you sayin' I look like a pretty young thing?” With an affected giggle, Bella waved one of her hands in front of her face.

“—uh, yeah, anyway, I'm not a fucking child, lady. I'm thirty-three, I'm old enough to not be a kid anymore—” Zenji waggled his finger at Zoe.

“Really? You don't act like it,” Zoe said.

The car was silent for a moment.

“I—” Zenji began.

“You act like a petulant twelve-year-old, in my estimation,” Zoe said.

Another pause.

“Just— just start driving,” Zenji said, his face sinking into his hands.

* * *

—While at roughly that moment, Tsukihi and Minato were having a fairly noteworthy conversation, I believe it would be more appropriate to explain what occurred once the five of them reached their destination.

As the jeep came to a stop, the only remaining sounds were the waves. The evening sun continued to sink lower towards the horizon, though it was still high enough to be considered 'day'. Their goal, this mysterious building, had several curious features.

First, the building did in fact sit upon the edge of the island. This small island only possessed three buildings. This, in and of itself, was not particularly out of the ordinary, or at least, no moreso than anything else they had seen today.

What was rather curious with that in mind was a second fact—this building possessed a _parking lot_. Not an empty one, either—though it was not filled to capacity, the fairly large yard of vehicles possessed a sizable number of faded, old machines.

One in particular—a red car of fairly expensive make, that had been top of the line twelve years prior—stood out on account of the harsh skid marks beneath its wheels, having violently, sharply turned into the lot and slightly dinged its neighbor. Similar tracks at the entrance of the parking lot indicated that it had been driving, but this was not a jeep, and there were no roads on this island.

The pavement was in reasonably good condition, lacking wear and tear from the weather on the island. Street lights in the parking lot had yet to turn on for the evening, as it was not yet late enough to justify them. It was as though a simple, ordinary slice of the world had been carved out, with laser-like precision, and placed onto this island.

Though Zenji griped at her, Zoe felt the need to park legally. There was no need to worry, though—this area was empty, and there was no danger of damaging anyone else's cars. Bella was first out of the car, gingerly lowering her sneaker-clad feet onto the pavement. Upon her understanding that this was not some sort of mimic masquerading as pavement, she stepped out into the open parking lot and said, “Well, I'll be.”

“You'll be what?” asked Anzu, who opened her own door and stretched.

“It's a figure of speech, as I understand it.” Zoe exited the car, and closed her door very firmly before taking a look around. “...Curious.”

“It's a fucking parking lot on an island, of course it's 'curious',” Zenji scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Ooh!” Bella pounded her fist into her open palm. “Maybe there's been some kinda apocalypse”—and she started waving her hands around ominously—“and we've been left adrift in the post-apocalyptic infinite ocean of human society's ruins!” A certain Ms. Sonohara has told me that this is the plot of a game called _Zanki Zero_, and thus, since Juri is not at this scene, I must take her place in informing you that since the expert had already determined that this was not the case, that Bella was likely incorrect.

The parking spot Zoe had picked was fairly close to the building itself, a large, but single-floored, building adorned with a white K on a red, square background. That said, there was a red dot in the upper-left that made the K rather resemble a bird, I've always thought. Beneath was text—'Kansai Super'.

Saori slowly ambled out of the car. “Oh,” she said, looking at the building. “That's good.”

—For those of you who are not aware, Kansai Super is a chain of supermarkets in the Kansai region of Japan. Like any supermarket chain, it's fairly ubiquitous in its area, and the design of any supermarket is standardized enough that the five of them could all recognize it, even if they'd never visited one of these specific examples.

“If we'll really be here for as long as they claimed,” Zoe said, “then it would be a good idea to search for anything usable in this building.” The left half of her face twitched upwards again, and she began cracking the knuckles on her right hand.

Zenji, meanwhile, cracked the knuckles on his left. “Everything's gonna be spoiled in there.” His eyes were narrowed, and his face drooped.

“Why is there a supermarket on a deserted island?” Anzu asked. Zenji and Saori both shrugged.

“Awful convenient, though, ain't it?” Bella said, before getting behind Zenji in their formation. Zenji looked over his shoulder and made a noise of confusion before backing away a touch. “Hey now! You're a tough ol' boy, ain't you, handsome? Seems most right to me you should be in front, to protect us _pleasant womenfolk_.” She wagged a finger and stuck her tongue out a touch.

After a moment, Zenji's drooping face affixed itself in an unimpressive stare. “'Pleasant'? I—” Then he looked at Saori. “Sure, she counts.”

“Wow, I'm pleasant,” Saori said, and gave a single, unenthusiastic clap. Bella wailed, and Saori rubbed her shoulder. “You're pleasant too, Bella.”

“Aww, you mean it, darlin'?” Bella sniffled.

After a pause to consider the best move socially, Zenji began to turn around, waving his hand, and said, “I— you seem perfectly pleasant and all, I guess, but—”

“He's not used to being hit on,” Anzu said, hands behind her head.

Saori chuckled as Zenji sputtered and said, “That is _not_ what I was going to say.”

“But am I wrong?” Anzu asked. Zoe had brought a few improvised weapons, just in case, so Anzu took up an iron pipe and took her place as the other vanguard.

Zoe nodded. “Saori, have you ever been in a fight before?” Saori shook her head. “Stay between me and Bella at the back, then. Try and keep an eye out behind us, just in case, alright?” Saori nodded.

The five of them did their best formation shuffle, standing out here in the middle of a supermarket parking lot, until they were in a formation worthy of being dubbed a Kitachi-grade phalanx. “But what if she tries to shoot something in front of me, and she shoots me?” Zenji asked, gesturing at Bella.

Before Zoe could answer, Bella huffed with an, “Ex-_cuse_ me, sir, my aim's lightnin'!”

“...What?” Zenji blinked.

“I ain't no spring chicken at this, Zenji. A—” Bella's words hitched, and she waved the hand not holding the gun around. “You know, it's like my daddy always says, a Duke never misses their mark! I've got the lickety-split accuracy of a lightning bolt aimin' at the tallest thing in earshot, 'cept it's louder faster on account of it not being miles away when I shoot my gun.”

Zenji was briefly stricken by a sense of unreality and hunched over to put his head in his hands. Saori patted him on the shoulder, too. (Forgive me, but I was just stricken by disbelief that they actually spent this long getting ready to enter the building. One would think _someone_ would throw caution to the wind, but multiple eyewitness accounts tell me that, no, this is quite accurate.)

Kansai Super's front door was an automatic door like many other supermarkets', and it appeared that to some degree, the electricity to operate the opening mechanism still worked. It made a noise to note someone's entry as it opened, and then closed once more. To this, Anzu was the first to react, then Zoe, Zenji, and Bella. Saori's reaction time was about three seconds slow, having known her. And to those who turned fast enough, in through the glass, automatic doors—

—a hint of white hair.

“...Ah?” There was a slight intake of breath from Zoe's end.

It was Anzu who launched into motion first, urging the group onward. “Come on.” And just like that, their fantastic formation work was shattered, with Anzu, Zoe, and Bella immediately starting to walk off, leaving Zenji a moment to digest. After that, though, he took Saori's hand and the two of them followed behind.

_Ding_, went the bell, signaling the entry of five more people into the supermarket. “Hello?” Anzu called.

“Hey, howdy!” Bella put her hands up to her mouth and called out into the market a bit louder. “You in here? We ain't here to hurt you, sweetheart—” Then she stopped.

The aisles of this supermarket were just like any other. Functional, vaguely inviting wall placards and signs hung from the ceiling labeled the aisles, though the breathing room between the top of the shelves and the ceiling was somewhat limited. The fixtures above their heads glowed with a faint light, rendering the inside of Kansai Super in a grey, eerie light. By the look of things, past the checkouts, the electricity was in fact still on in its completeness—from her vantage point at the back, to one side, Saori could faintly see a bit of the produce aisle.

Aside from the quiet, the strangeness of such a building with nobody present, the one particularly noteworthy thing was the bright red caution tape stretching starkly across many of the checkout aisles and many of the grocery aisles, forming glaring walls that seemed almost to glow with a harsh, crimson glare. Leaving only checkout six to go through seemed to aggravate Zenji, who did his best to tear the tape to bits, but after a moment or ten's worth of trying, he let go. “Damn it,” he swore, “what's this even made out of?”

When next they saw that flash of white hair, no matter how Bella cried out, it was as if its owner could not hear her, or had the strength of mind not to heed her words at all. It was fairly long hair, white, and could be seen past the caution tape, walking into Aisle Twelve- in this market, used for kitchen supplies, among other things. “Hey!” Bella called out again. “W-wait!” She tried to reach past the caution tape and over it, but something about the caution tape's properties made it difficult enough to get past that Bella found herself stymied.

“...So, what, we're being corralled over into one side of the place?” Zenji snorted at the barrier of caution tape that blocked them from going anywhere past the aisle just across from their entrance. “Well, that's lovely, isn't it.” He rolled his eyes and clenched one fist against his thigh. “What the hell's with the lights?”

“Wonder how they got past this,” Anzu said, regarding the person behind the caution tape.

As Bella removed herself from the wall of caution tape blocking them from further to that side of the building, she noticed Zoe, still, gazing towards the aisle where the white-haired person had disappeared, a look of silent, awed contemplation, or something along those lines. “Dr. Kitachi, we gotta save that person, right?” Her shout was as earnest as it was disregarding the oddness of the environment.

“...What?” Zoe's face sprung to life again, and her twitch began to act up once more. “Oh... yes, of course.”

Then Saori quietly cleared her throat, and said, “Hey, Phanuel?”

In front of the group, once again, a TV monitor came shooting out of the tiling beneath their feet, placing itself in front of them to display a CG depiction of an angel at its seat, this time alone. “Neat! I wasn't expecting to be able to give this spiel until tomorrow!” Phanuel exclaimed, a beaming look on its face. “Hi, guys! Wow, you're real go-getters, huh?”

Anzu leapt back, yelping. “What the fuck?!” Her arms caught on the edge of Aisle... was it Eight? It was Aisle Eight, I believe.

“Hi, Phanuel,” Saori said. “We're curious about this place. It's wei—”

“Wait, you can just ring up the little angel fella and they _pop up_?” Bella exclaimed, her eyes widening. “Don't matter where?”

“I wouldn't be a very good guide to all things Sinner Hunter if you couldn't access me anywhere, after all,” Phanuel said, nodding. “I was planning to explain that to you all tomorrow, but Saori just went and figured it out on her own.”

For a moment, Zenji looked oddly proud, but his frown returned. “...Where's the other one?” he asked.

“Nagisa's off dealing with complex emotions the likes of which I could never possibly understand,” Phanuel said, shrugging. “You know how she is, right?”

Zenji was unimpressed, slumping over, his ponytail flipping over onto his face. “No. I don't know how she is.”

“But you know her,” Anzu said.

“Not _that well_!” Zenji groaned, and then groaned louder when he realized he'd started speaking on this subject.

Zoe re-entered the conversation and reality, snapping to a start, and said, “Who was—”

“Your twitch is acting up,” Phanuel said.

With one side of her face twitching upwards, Zoe stared blankly and said, “I know. Who was that person with the white hair, Phanuel?”

Phanuel blinked. “...Huh?”

“The person with the white hair we just saw enter this supermarket. Who are they?” Zoe asked, more firmly this time.

“What are you talking about?” Phanuel blinked again. “You five should be the only ones in here right now, the other eight are back—”

“Oh, don't _fuck_ with us, you little shit,” Zenji said, snarling. “We just saw someone come in here.”

“White hair, white hair...” Phanuel crossed its arms. “How many people do I know with white hair? That's kind of uncommon in humans, right, at least until a certain age? I—”

“Don't pretend you don't know, _tell us_,” Zoe said, toeing the line between sternness and harshness as she crossed her arms back at Phanuel and leaned ever so slightly in towards the screen.

“I really don't know! I didn't see anyone come in!” Phanuel waved its arms around, then began bowing repeatedly. “I'm sorry! Nobody else is supposed to be in here! I—”

Everyone went silent when it registered to the room that Bella had come and wrapped one arm around the screen, using her other hand to pat its top. “Alright, no need to get all worried, now. We ain't mad with you, sweetie. Calm down. Got some questions for you.”

“Okay, okay...” Taking a deep, simulated breath, Phanuel began smiling again.

With her conversational influence on the rise, Bella huffed proudly, putting her hands on her hips, and then continued. “Well, Phanny, you told us all about the manor and all, but you didn't tell us much about the island. Why's this supermarket here for an island what's deserted?”

“Ah, I'm glad you asked!” Phanuel threw its hands up. “For one thing, a store would be a good thing for you guys to have in case you run out of stuff in the manor, right? You fleshbags and your foodening!” Bella and Phanuel shared an amicable chuckle. Saori laughed a little, too. “The primary reason it's here, though, is because this is actually...” Phanuel trailed off. “Oh, wait... am I supposed to say that yet? Nagisa was kind of vague... um, could you guys head over to Aisle Twelve?”

“Well, can ya get rid of the caution tape, sweetheart?” Bella leaned over and sparkled a little.

“Oh, it's caution tape?” Phanuel asked, then paused for just a brief second with an animated sweatdrop and continued, “Uh, no, no I can't, but... umm... Oh! Head through Aisle Five and around the back and you should be able to get over to Aisle Twelve, there's a system to this.”

Rifling through a few drawers and assorted odds and ends that Zoe and Zenji had brought with them, Bella produced a notepad and pen, and handed both objects to Saori. “Saori, can you handle keepin' us a map?”

Saori blinked, and then nodded. “Yeah.”

“Peachy!” Bella clapped. The caution tape, to the other side, blocked them from heading past Aisle Two to the produce aisle on the right half of the store, but Aisles Two through Eight were all available. “We'll be over in a jiff, Phanny.” She let loose with an enthusiastic thumbs up.

“Wow, thanks!” Phanuel said. “See you there!” With that, the screen retracted into the floor again.

Anzu stared at Bella with an inscrutable gaze, her face slightly scrunched up. “...Huh,” she muttered. Bella turned and tilted her head as if to ask if something was the matter. “Uh, nothing.”

“Well, alright. If you're just transfixed, sweetie, it's alright to admit it, I am pretty fab,” Bella said, winking in a comically self-aggrandizing manner. To the pondering Dr. Kitachi, Bella called, “C'mon, Doc!” And, with a flip of the head, “You too, Zenji!”

I imagine Anzu felt some relief in being able to be swept up in someone else’s drive again, and having known her, I imagine her shoulders slumped in kind. Saori began intensely studying the notepad, drawing a map with laudable precision. Zoe, upon being called, started awake, saying, “Oh, yes, of course,” and followed behind, whereas Zenji grumbled something about not needing to be nice to the computer.

“'Course I need to be nice to the computer, hun, you reckon they're havin' a good time with a bad attitude mummy mommy?” Bella asked, taking the lead, spinning her gun like a wild west pistolero as she entered Aisle Five. This aisle contained, among other things, cereals and other simple bread products, the high aisles casting a dark shadow on the tunnel, with only the far, harsh glow of the caution tape on both ends giving it any color.

Bella did call out a few more times to the silver-haired person, but as they cleared Aisle Five, turning out of it into a marked-off tunnel of caution tape, they still had not responded. The hallway of tape passed by Aisles Six, Seven, and Eight as it went, but curiously enough, those three aisles were now marked off by caution tape as well. “Well, that wasn't there before, was it,” Bella said.

“Okay, what the _fuck_ is going on in here?” Anzu said, a bit of sweat becoming evident on her brow as her left foot began to tap. “I don't like this— this, like, grey filter on reality. Something is wrong here. This—” She cut herself off to grunt. “And what's with the magic caution tape? I don't like this. Something's wrong here.”

“Yeah, we've been _kidnapped_,” Zenji scoffed.

“Oh, shut up. No, it's not _that_, it's— this can't be—” Anzu cut herself off again and ran her fingers through her hair.

No matter how long the hallway of tape _felt_, it only lasted a few moments. Before long, the turn into Aisle Twelve, where the white-haired figure had fled towards, was upon them.

What Phanuel had wanted the five of them to find was plainly obvious the instant you entered the aisle. Indeed, one would need to be blind to not notice it. It was something we, as humans, often have something of an instinctive aversion to, no matter how commonplace it might be within us.

The floor of Aisle Twelve was adorned by a bloodstain. Not a small one, either—whatever blood loss had caused this stain was severe. Despite the gray and red dimension within which it resided, the dull red of it sitting upon the floor was still like a magnet to the eyes of any who witnessed it.

“W-what the hell?” Anzu said, beginning to shiver. “That's a bloodstain,” she said, rubbing her forehead.

Keeping her breath calm, Bella said, “Phanny?”

With a loud, trumpet-laden fanfare, Phanuel erupted from the ground past the bloodstain, exclaiming, “_Congratulations_!” After the fanfare died down, though, it seemed to take a moment to ponder. “...Uhhh... no, actually, that's wrong, sorry, I—”

“Why is there a bloodstain in the middle of the floor of this supermarket?” Zoe asked.

“I'm glad you asked!” Phanuel clapped with its tiny hands. “So! Remember how we said you all had to figure out who the Lackadaisical Prince is?” Recollection led to a number of nods. “Well, the Prince is a _sinner_, after all. This building, Kansai Super, is where the Prince's sin took place— and this bloodstain is here to mark where it occurred!”

Zenji blinked. “...Ooookay,” he said, breathing a loud sigh of relief. At Anzu and Bella's baffled looks, he said, “What? You know, I've never even been in one of these, so it can't be me, is what I meant—”

“Ooh, the secretive type, are we, Zenji?” Bella whistled, narrowing her eyes slightly.

“No— I mean, yes, but _no_, shut up,” Zenji sputtered, waving his hands around.

“Evidently, you're awful at playing your cards close to your chest,” Zoe said. She snorted. “You seem like the sort who'd shatter like a glass house under interrogation.”

“And you seem like...” Zenji trailed off for a moment before concluding, “a real—”

“Okay, no, shut up, what do you mean _this building_?” Anzu asked, stomping her foot. “It's not like any of us have been to this island before, right? What, is it some funhouse replica?”

Phanuel paused before sheepishly saying, “Yeah, kinda?”

“You replicated a supermarket, complete with working electricity and some kind of ambient gray filter, for—“ Anzu shook her head. “What the fuck is _wrong_ with you people?”

That remark got Phanuel's eyes to lower, and it folded its hands together and bent its head. “Um... well, you know, I don't—”

“So what, you want us to be crime scene investigation now?” Anzu glared. “Investigate this place and figure out who the killer is?”

“Well, this victim isn't _dead_...” Phanuel said.

“Figure out who the sinner is,” Anzu rephrased.

“Uhm, figuring out what happened would also probably be a good idea!” Phanuel raised its hands and smiled, trying to keep its mood up. A small box opened up from the screen, and out came another scrap of paper. When Bella took it, she read, then, what it said— but I've already shown you what it said. This was lines two through twelve of _The Lackadaisical Prince_. “We'll be providing you with these as you investigate, but this case isn't that complicated, so we're giving you this all in one chunk rather than in any more pieces.”

Once the five present had, in their own manners, digested this, Bella let out a hum. “So, this's where this 'woman' got injured, is what you're saying?”

“Basically, yeah.” Phanuel nodded.

“And you made this whole scene so we could go through it'n figure out which one of us is the Prince what got her hurt?” Bella asked.

“Mmhm, mmhm.” Phanuel nodded again.

Bella pressed her finger against her temple, and placed her other wrist against her hip. “Seems a bit past my pay grade, but okay! Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

“...But since one of us would no doubt recognize this place, and this crime scene,” Zoe said, “we should take care that nobody tampers with the evidence to keep their crime hidden. Is everything present, Phanuel?”

“Everything Nagisa could find,” Phanuel nodded. “It's a pretty exacting replica, all told!”

Bella walked forth to the bloodstain and knelt down. “This to scale?” Phanuel nodded. “She musta got hurt real bad, huh... poor girl. I—”

“Ah?!” A gasp from Zoe cut Bella off, and the rest saw that she was looking past the screen. Again, there was a flash of white. Zoe ran forth, barging past Phanuel fast enough to leave the screen spinning (apparently, it rotated).

“Wha— wait up, Doc!” Bella called out, sidling past Phanuel herself. Zoe turned the corner, and Bella was right behind. (Zenji had no end of complaining, but grabbed Saori by the hand to drag her along, and Anzu staggered behind, disoriented.)

Around the corner, though—

Bella just briefly met a pair of red eyes—

In just that moment, Bella saw the woman they'd been following. She couldn't have been any older than eighteen, and with long, white hair, red eyes, ethereally light skin, and a white sundress, she almost resembled a ghost. She and Zoe appeared to have locked gazes, for just that briefest of moments, as Zoe gaped in shock.

And then—

The girl ran into another aisle, that brief moment of calm shifting into a whirlwind. “Hey, w-wait!” She had broken free of an arm—the arm of a man in a black ski mask and full black clothing, disguising most of his features—and run, again finding herself out of sight.

“Help me!”

were the only words that she left.

The caution tape could be seen through, and Bella wasn't sure how she hadn't noticed before, but this man was not alone, as he aimed his gun at Zoe. Behind one of the checkout tills were two more, and another peeked out of Aisle Fifteen, near the left end of the store. “P-put your hands w-where I can see 'em!” shouted the man right in front of her.

A flash of the setting sun through the door struck the side of Bella's eyeball—


	7. Welcome to Sinner Hunter, 3 ~ The Lady Gunner

“Get outta the _way_!” With more strength than could be expected from her lithe frame, Bella full-body tackled Zoe back into the relative safety of Aisle Twelve. As she did—

_BANG!_

—With a yelp of pain, Saori ducked in response to the deafening roar of a gunshot. Bella had no time to think on that, though, and with great haste she clapped both of her hands onto Zoe's cheeks. “Doc, this ain't the time to stand around, we gotta _get_!”

“I—” Zoe took a moment before blinking and shaking her head. “Right. I'm sorry.”

“Phanny, you mind blocking 'em for us?” Bella asked, and Phanuel rocketed up out of the ground right behind her.

“Wait, what?!” Phanuel asked, blowing back comically.

“With your screens, child!” Bella snapped. “That ain't gonna hurt you, is it?”

“Wha— oh!” Phanuel clapped. “Good thinking! I'll do what I can!”

“Anzu, get your pipe ready!” Bella barked, and Anzu, who had been standing stunned, started to attention and brandished her improvised weapon. “Saori—”

“I-I'm fine,” Saori said, though she was sweating and shivering slightly.

“Well, you're not gonna be fine if we don't _move_, damn it!” Zenji roared, hefting Saori onto his back and allowing her to ride piggyback. Bella was briefly impressed by his deftness at piggyback rides before the five of them retreated out of Aisle Twelve back to the hallway they'd been in prior, with the voice of whoever had just attacked them ringing behind them.

“Do you really need to have her ride you?” Anzu asked Zenji, to which Zenji spat and muttered something along the lines of 'fuck off.' Saori, for her part, seemed reasonably alright with this situation.

However, quick as the five of them went, their way to Aisle Five was blocked off by another one of their assailants. This one was much quieter than the first, but his arsenal was equally potent, as he raised his own gun, which, based on Bella's later testimony, I _imagine_ was some sort of revolver, at the five of them.

“Aisle Nine's still open,” Saori pointed out, and quick as a wink, Zoe narrowly avoiding another bullet, they ducked into Aisle Nine. “Though if things don't change, we're still on the other end of the caution tape.”

“Things may very well change. Let's hope they change,” Zoe said.

They did. Rather than the previous layout, exiting from the south end of Aisle Nine ferried them off towards the lower-numbered aisles. Through the caution tape, Bella noticed one of their assailants just about to turn around, and though she could not cross it herself, it turned out that Anzu was perfectly well capable of braining someone with her pipe through the tape, conveniently enough. He went out like a light as they turned around. After a moment to think, flicking her temple with her index finger, Bella called out. “Saori! Look behind you!”

“Yes'm,” Saori said, and turned her head back around towards the entrance to Aisle Three. “Why?”

“The tape should be fixin' to change!” Bella called out. “Tell us when it shifts 'n we might be able to get out!”

“Oh!” Zenji exclaimed. “That's actually pretty smart.”

“I try, I try,” Bella chuckled.

Once Bella's foot cleared the exit of Aisle Three, Saori gave a, “Whoa.” The way she described it, the caution tape reeled into itself and reorganized, forming again the wall blocking the produce aisle and unblocking the exit. She hastily scribbled down on her notepad as it happened. “We should g—”

Bella wrenched Zoe's neck and sent the two of them into a roll out of the aisle. Another gunshot rang out, and as Zenji ducked, the bullet seared his ponytail, causing him to let out a hiss.

“Um,” Saori said, as she saw what occurred behind them—another of the masked assailants was coming from behind them, blocking the exit. “Guys?”

The revolver-equipped assailant seemed to be preparing to fire once more, but then a quick metallic sound rang out as he was beaned in the chin by a metallic screen erupting from the ground on his side of the caution tape. “Run!” Phanuel called out.

“That's what we're doin', sweetheart!” Bella called back.

This tunnel ferried them, in fact, to the previously-blocked produce aisle. This aisle was significantly wider than the others, and the cool mist that kept the produce fresh for sale was still present. Bella quickly scanned her surroundings, and noticed something on the ground by a stand for apples—a wallet, on the floor. “Anzu!” she barked, and jerked her head.

“R-right!” Anzu responded, launching over there at top speed and making a slick slide to grab the wallet and duck behind a stand.

“The entrance is unblocked from this end!” Zenji called to them. Since they had a head start, he said, “We'll get out and start up the jeep again! You two hurry!”

“Good plan, we'll be right behind you!” Bella said, and slid behind the stand as well, as their assailant just narrowly missed the other three fleeing to the market's entrance.

Craning her head just slightly around the corner of the stand to keep visual camouflage, Bella got visual on her target—he was gingerly aiming his gun at various stands, casing the area for his targets. Bella, quietly as she could, checked the status of her own handgun. Six bullets in the chambers, ready to be loaded, and one in the barrel. Seven bullets—not that she needed them for that purpose, but more than enough to kill anything that moved. “Anzu?” Bella whispered.

“Yeah?” Anzu said.

“When I slide out, run for it. Don't you stop for nothin', girl,” Bella said. “I got this. Don't try to help me or nothin', you hear?”

Anzu nodded. “Yeah, okay, I can do that.”

“Good.” Bella smiled. She held up three fingers, then two, then one—

“Hey!” The assailant called out as Anzu fled with the wallet she'd claimed. As he did, though, and aimed his gun in that direction, Bella darted out from behind the stand—

—and though she was meant to run, Anzu couldn't help but marvel as Bella's first shot nailed the man's gun, painfully forcing it out of his hand—

—and a second shot caused him to fall over, clutching his leg, which Bella had cleanly shot in a manner which would likely not permanently injure, but would certainly debilitate. Spinning her gun and puffing the smoke from the barrel off as she did, Bella spun on her heel and made to follow Anzu, who remembered she was supposed to be running. “Holy shit,” Anzu said.

“Dukes don't miss their shots, sweetie,” Bella said, a slightly smug grin on her face. Though the two of them could hear noise as they slammed open the doors, they were out of the door by that point.

“Wait, what about—” Anzu started.

“Gotta cut and run for the time being!” Bella answered. The jeep had, in fact, begun thrumming with life, and the two of them barged into the backseat next to Saori.

“_Floor it_!” Zenji shouted, as soon as the door was closed behind them. With the utmost legal precision, no doubt, Zoe did so, exiting her parking space and driving out of the parking lot.

Saori worriedly looked behind them, but after a few moments, they'd gone long enough for her to say, “Nobody's coming out,” and let out a shiver.

The jeep then came to a halt, all five members of the group simultaneously letting out breaths in their own ways. (Having known them, it went like this—Bella fully slumped over and her head planted itself on the back of Zenji's seat, Zenji leaned back and ran his fingers through his hair, Zoe, trembling, let out a breath through her gritted teeth as the left half of her face twitched, Anzu slumped backwards and began to merge with her seat, and Saori slightly curled inwards.)

“Well,” Zoe said, “that certainly happened.”

“Yeah, okay, you were right,” Zenji said, shaking his head, “I was being a dipshit.”

“My smug pride at having you admit that can take a backseat to being glad we're all still alive,” Zoe responded.

“I...” Saori said, curling into herself, her voice coming out a quiet squeak, “...don't like... the sound of explosions.”

“We're safe for now, Saori,” Bella said, a slightly calmer smile beginning to return to her face. “Let's get back to the mansion once you're ready, Doc. We should let 'em know what happened.”

“Oh, fuck, Mom's gonna kill me,” Anzu moaned, planting her head in her hands.

“My condolences, but how about we don't joke like that after what just happened?” Zoe suggested, and Anzu raised her head from her hands to give a nod that communicated that Zoe had a point.

* * *

“Okay, _so_!” Minato said, clapping his hands together, standing up from the curious machine on the second floor. “There's definitely bits of air purification in here for inside the manor, plus some tech I don't recognize... Frankly”—and he swung a finger out—“if you told me this was from some kind of sci-fi anime, I'd believe you, 'cuz it's beyond me.”

“One function is enough for the time being, I suppose,” Tsukihi said. She nodded as Minato turned around. “Good work.”

“Aww, I love compliments!” Minato said, raising his hands up like a small dog and pawing at the air as the two of them left that particular room. “Thanks, Tsukihi!”

Planting her index finger and middle finger on her forehead, Tsukihi pressed firmly on her skull, sighing through her teeth.

—Tsukihi and Minato had actually been the two earliest to the dining room. Zoe had politely come down to inform them of the fact that she was going to chase after Zenji and Anzu, but had declined Tsukihi's presence, saying, and I quote, “I'm sorry, but I doubt she would actually follow my orders if you were present, Mrs. Itagaki.”

Another sigh through her teeth as Tsukihi crossed her arms, frowning, and sat down at a chair near one of Saori's open books. Minato mirrored the gesture. “Yeah, it is pretty frustrating, isn't it?”

“That's certainly a word you could use to describe it,” Tsukihi said. The absurdity of being kidnapped was one thing, but to know that Anzu was out there on this island—

“Hey, calm down,” Minato said, putting an arm on her shoulder. “I'm sure Anzu's fine! She seems hardy.” He grinned.

Tsukihi blinked before saying, “Are you _comforting _me?”

“Yeahhhh?” Minato tilted his head. “Shooould I not be?”

“...You're a curious man, Kuromatsu,” Tsukihi answered, giving him an appraising glance. “Most people tend to be so intimidated by my presence that they'd never dare do something like that.”

“Oh, huh,” Minato said, nodding. “Shame. Have you tried being less scary?”

“A cultivated sense of horror is one of the most important things for a modern businesswoman, sir.” Tsukihi flipped her hair a touch.

“Oh, to strike fear into the hearts of your enemies and stuff?” Minato asked, and Tsukihi nodded. “Yeah, I get that. I mean, Juri's pretty scared of you!” He laughed.

“Juri?” Tsukihi asked.

“Sonohara. Kinda plain-looking OL, glasses, is trying really hard to pretend she's not a huge otaku but as something of a nerd myself I know my kind when I see it, really thin, could probably stand to eat a sandwich, if I was her parent I'd be downright concerned?” The previous statement was all in one breath.

Tsukihi, for her part, had recognized her as soon as he said 'Sonohara'. “Ah, I see,” she said, and nodded. She then looked at Minato. “You're surprisingly keen, Kuromatsu.”

“Hey! Surprisingly?” Minato laughed. “That's mean!” He rubbed the back of his head, then leaned back in his chair. “I guess Anzu's at that age, huh?”

“So she is,” Tsukihi agreed. “So she is.”

“Can't be easy,” Minato said.

Tsukihi looked down at her left hand. “No,” she said, “it's not.” Then she paused. “Why am I talking to you about this? We just met.”

Minato shrugged. “People tell me I have a non-judgmental air about me. Maybe it's because, divorced from the hustle and bustle of regular life, you're finally cut loose to have a conversation without worrying about business.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Tsukihi said.

“You don't have very much fun, do you, Tsukihi?” Minato asked.

“I haven't had fun in ten years,” Tsukihi said. This was a completely serious statement.

“Bummer. We should hang out more, then!” Minato smiled. “I'm kind of an expert in le fun times, you see.” He leaned his shoulder onto the table and splayed out his hand. “Ich bin expert.”

“Certainly...” Tsukihi paused. “Mr. Hungus.”

Minato paused, and Tsukihi immediately had the impression she'd made a mistake at the wide grin. “How old are you?”

“...Forty-two,” Tsukihi answered. “I was three.”

“Favorite author?” Minato asked.

“Stephen King, no doubt,” Tsukihi answered, crossing her arms.

“Favorite band?” Minato asked.

“Queen,” Tsukihi answered.

Minato blew back. “Not just a hipster, but a hipster of exclusively foreign media! Dubs or subs on _Transformers_?”

“Are you some kind of fool? Subs, of course,” Tsukihi answered. She raised her hands and sneered. “The addition of the pathetic jokes and annoying voices they give characters meant to be taken seriously is—”

She paused once she realized how wide Minato was smiling. “See? We definitely need to hang out more!” Minato smiled.

Tsukihi blinked. “...You're a clever one, Kuromatsu.”

“Nah, I'm an idiot, I just like talking,” Minato said, with an open-mouthed smile. Tsukihi chuckled, but then—

_“Nah, I'm an idiot. I just like talking!”_

—Tsukihi shook her head. Minato blinked, but she said, “It's nothing.”

“I'll take you at your word even though we as a society have turned the phrase 'it's nothing' into a linguistic way of saying 'I'm bothered by something but don't want to say it out loud for personal baggage reasons!'” Minato said.

“You are a clever boy, Kuromatsu,” Tsukihi said, lightly smiling, and closing her eyes with a proud nod. With a deep breath, she steadied herself, and opened her eyes, stiffening up her posture once more. “We should be off.”

“Got it, Boss Lady!” Minato said, standing up himself.

* * *

—After Tsukihi and Minato left to explore the second floor, the first to the dining room was Park, who sat there drowning his sorrows some more, as he did. Juri dashed into the room second, sitting down next to Park. “Huh?” Park mumbled out of his bottle. “Oh, hello.”

“Hi!” Juri said. Right behind her were Wataru and Ryo, leisurely walking into the room. By the look of him, Ryo was significantly calmer than he had been during the broadcast. He gently bowed his head in greeting to Juri.

“Ah, yes, I-I should put this away, then,” Park said, as he began to cork his bottle.

“You drink straight out of the bottle?” Wataru raised his eyebrow. Park nodded as he fumbled with the cork until managing to put it in properly. “That's—”

“Isn't that a little excessive?” Juri asked, twiddling her fingers and smiling, on account of the fact that her eavesdropping did not appear to be the point of conversation.

Ryo looked curiously at the bottle, a fairly expensive whiskey, by the look of it. He paused. “...Um,” he began. Parsley. “D-did—did you know.” He paused, and took a breath in, closing his eyes, and the three of them patiently waited for him. “The difference between whiskey and brandy?”

Park blinked. “You know... I-I don't think I do, actually,” he said, his eyes widening.

“Whiskey's made from grain. Brandy's made from fruit,” Ryo said. Park made a noise of recognition and nodded, smiling, and that made Ryo smile, too.

“Why do you know that?” Juri blinked. “Aren't you, like, twelve?”

“Um...” Ryo thought for a moment, then shrugged. He tapped his head. “Lots in here. Um... 'trivia'?” Wataru nodded. “Lots of trivia.”

The door quietly opened once again, and with an “Excuse us,” the next into the room were Mai and Kenichiro. Mai bowed and lowered her head, smiling. “Nishikiyama-_san_, Sonohara-_san_, Park-_sensei_, Ryo-_kun_. Good evening.”

“Yeah, I definitely didn't teach you that,” Kenichiro said, grimacing. “What kind of people are the Oriharas...?” he muttered, with an unreasonably sorrowful look on his face.

“This is an odd combination,” Park observed. “What, sir, would a shady-looking man like yourself have to say to an enterprising young idol of the entertainment industry?”

Blinking, Kenichiro replied, “I should never have told you where the booze was.”

“I'm not an idol, Sensei,” Mai said, demurely chuckling.

“Illicit dealings, maybe...?” Park mumbled. “Could it be, he's one of those obsessive fans...?” He appeared to have forgotten that other people existed for a moment.

“Yeah, you know me,” Kenichiro said. He pumped his fists in the air and bellowed, “Banzai! Banzai! Ma~ai! Ma~ai!”

“Ma~ai, Ma~ai,” Ryo imitated, also pumping his fists, though much quieter.

—As the table was set for an odd number of people, there were six seats on the right half of the table, and five on the right, along with the two at the ends. Park sat at the furthest seat on the right, and Juri right next to him. Wataru sat in the closest seat on the right, and Ryo across from him. Mai sat next to Ryo, and Kenichiro sat at the third seat on the right, equidistant between Wataru and Juri, and across from Mai's left side.

“It's nothing so bad as that, Sensei,” Mai said. She smiled, and tilted her head. “Kenichiro was my guardian for some time during my childhood.”

“'Guardian'?” Kenichiro asked.

“Caretaker? Supervisor?” Mai asked. Then she put on an impish little grin. “Oh, or do you just want to hear me call you Father?”

“Wha—” Kenichiro started. He waved his hand. “That's way too important for me.”

“Oh, come on, Kenichiro,” Mai said, continuing to grin. “I remember you said, about eight years ago, 'Well, I guess I always wanted a daughter,' about me, to your boss!”

“W-were you listening in?!” Kenichiro sputtered, and that got Juri to belly laugh.

“Ah, well, my neighbor, Sagami-_kun_, did you know him, Kenichiro?” Mai pondered. Ryo lit up slightly. “He was very rascally. Someone had to be his voice of reason.”

“Wait, okay, which boss? I had a few,” Kenichiro said.

This gave Mai pause, as she thought for a moment. “I don't remember his name, exactly... but he was a very particular individual, who liked to rub his goatee...”

“...I had a few bosses with goatees,” Kenichiro added.

“...Hmmm...” Mai scrunched up her face for a few more moments before lighting up and clapping. “Robert Downey Jr.!”

“Ohhhhhhh!” Kenichiro lit up with recognition, and the two of them shared a moment of understanding. “What the fuck was I talking to him about?”

“I only remember the one comment,” Mai said. “But yes, you were talking to your boss who looks eerily like Robert Downey Jr. and made that comment, about me. So would you prefer I called you my father?” She smiled.

“Shut up,” Kenichiro said, looking away and trying very hard to disguise the fact that he was blushing.

“That's way more wholesome than I was expecting from this whole thing,” Juri said, leaning in and staring at Kenichiro with one eye closed. “Is your dark secret that you're actually a good guy?”

“Or perhaps you're the sort of villain who simply has a soft spot for his children,” Park said. He nodded to himself. “A tale as old as time.”

“Eh, I'll let you wonder on that,” Kenichiro said, smirking.

Speaking of parents, next into the room were Tsukihi and Minato. “Hey, gang!” Minato said, giving fingerguns. He sat on the furthest seat on the left. “How much hot gossip did I miss?”

“It's good to see that everyone else has at least arrived,” Tsukihi said. Being herself, she took her place at the furthest head of the table. “Have the six of you discovered anything new?”

“Whiskey is made from grain and brandy is made from fruit,” Park said.

“Oh, is _that_ the difference?” Kenichiro's eyes widened.

“You're drunk, Mr. Park,” Tsukihi observed, her brow furrowed. “Is that going to hamper your judgment?”

“Don't worry, Mrs. Itagaki,” Park laughed. “Bad— only bad things happen when I'm sober. Good things might happen now!”

“Oh, good, a hopeless drunk,” Kenichiro said, rolling his eyes.

“Implying you're not, sir?” Tsukihi raised her eyebrow.

“Brutal,” Kenichiro said. “I'm not that bad! I prefer orange juice for my crying alone at night drink.” He leaned back and put his hands behind his head.

“He's actually Mai's dad and he's super tsundere for his daughter,” Juri said, and Kenichiro went stone still.

“My condolences on your terminally shady father, Ms. Orihara,” Tsukihi said.

“Oh, he wasn't always like that,” Mai giggled. “He used to cut quite the striking figure in a suit and tie! He was the sort of man a child could count on to act heroic in times of need.”

“Shut _upppppp_,” Kenichiro whined.

“What is he now?” Wataru asked, raising his eyebrow.

“I'm sure he's just the same, just having let himself go a bit,” Mai answered. “I have faith in Kenichiro, Itagaki-_san_. He's not a bad man by any stretch of the imagination.”

“Your character witness is appreciated, thank you,” Tsukihi said, gazing at Mai with her hands steepled. “But he is a sinner just like the rest of us. I'm going to continue thinking of him as unfortunately shady.”

“Um...” Ryo started, before wilting back again.

“Yes, Ryo?” Tsukihi asked.

Ryo mouthed 'dogbane' to himself before continuing. “Um... is it true?”

“That we all do have some form of sin to be ashamed of?” Tsukihi said, and closed her eyes. “I'm unsure what yours could possibly be, given your age, but to be certain, I do.”

“Same here,” Kenichiro said.

“Yup,” Wataru nodded, a sad look on his face. Park just looked down at his own lap.

“Um... well, yeah...” Juri trailed off.

“Mmhm,” Minato nodded, his hand on his chin.

“What do you think Anzu's is?” Juri asked Tsukihi, whose face went stony.

“...I haven't the foggiest,” Tsukihi answered. She shook her head. “I— mm.” Her eyes sank towards the floor.

“Families are complicated, huh?” Juri asked.

Kenichiro laughed sadly. “You don't know the half of it, kiddo.”

It was at this moment that the door opened once again, and a still slightly heavily-breathing Bella Duke said, “Well, howdy, y'all!” She smiled brightly, spinning herself around one edge of the door to let Zenji, Zoe, Saori, and Anzu, in that order, come through the door as well. “Ooh, we pickin' seats?” She jumped up and down a little, before sliding in and placing herself in the chair next to Mai. “You don't mind, do you, darling?”

“Of course not,” Mai said, smiling.

“We've been off on the furthest building on the island,” Zoe said. Her twitch had calmed down, and she sat between Kenichiro and Juri. “We made a number of discoveries.”

“Including Mr. Fuyutsuki coming in the room, I see,” Tsukihi said. She glared at him. “Well, sir, any time you'd like to begin—”

“We're not talking about that right now, lady.” Zenji scowled at her back, making a harrumphing noise. “We've got more important stuff to talk about.”

Saori nodded. “Mmhm.”

For her part, Anzu sat between Wataru and Kenichiro, and slumped over on the table. “Anzu—” Tsukihi began.

“Save it and listen,” Anzu said.

Eleven sets of eyes registered the fact that there were now only two seats remaining. One was between Bella and Minato, who were reasonably pleasant human beings, and the other was the closest seat to the door, directly across the table from Tsukihi. Zenji looked at Saori, and Saori looked at Zenji. People looked at Zenji, and people looked at Saori. “I—” Saori began.

With a resounding, arms-crossed harrumph, Zenji sat his rear end resoundingly down at the end seat, leaving Saori with her seat. “Oh,” Saori said.

“I'd rather save you the trouble,” Zenji responded, staring directly, standoffishly, at Tsukihi, with an air of rebellion to him. Saori slunk into her seat.

—So to reiterate, Zenji was at the close end seat, and Tsukihi at the far end seat. From close to far, the left side of the table seated Ryo, Mai, Bella, Saori, and Minato. The right side of the table seated Wataru, Anzu, Kenichiro, Zoe, Juri, and Park. It would be best if you simply assumed them resuming these positions when present in this room from now on unless otherwise stated—this became an odd sort of unspoken order.

At this point, the five who had entered the Kansai Super launched into their chilling tale of the inside of the supermarket. Several of those who had remained had similar questions to those they had asked, like why was this here, what was its purpose?

—so, to reiterate, this Kansai Super here was a recreation of the crime scene, and it was our duty to solve this crime and learn of one of our number's involvement in the situation.

“Seriously...? Does this have to be an investigation death game?” Juri slumped onto the table and started gnawing at the edge. Zoe looked over and started chiding her. “We're not crime scene investigators!”

Speaking of 'serious', a curiously serious look started coming over Minato's face. “Glowing red caution tape you couldn't pass, the place looked weirdly gray, things shifted around going different ways...” He pondered, scratching his chin.

“Do you have any thoughts?” Zoe asked.

Minato shook his head. “None that are worth sharing right now, I'd have to go look myself, I think.” Mai was similarly pensive, but chose not to speak up.

I'm sure you can imagine, but upon the revelation that the five of them had been attacked, there were reactions of great shock. In particular, Tsukihi stood up and shouted, “Are you _serious_?!” Her eyes darted over to Anzu, who retreated behind Kenichiro's bulk. Tsukihi seemed displeased when Kenichiro winked and refused to move.

“I started drawing a map,” Saori said, and slid it onto the table. “For next time.” This was accepted into evidence.

“I think there were five of 'em?” Bella said, pressing her finger against her temple. “'Least, that's what it seemed like. I shot one of 'em in the leg, so—”

“Wait, you what?” Juri blinked.

“Shot the guy,” Bella said, shrugging. “Weren't too hard. Like shootin' fish in a barrel, as they say!”

“Nevada must be a dangerous place,” Mai muttered.

“Aw, yeah. When you're a Nevadan, you gotta learn to gamble with the stone-cold face of a monolith or somethin' like that,” Bella said, stoically nodding.

“Why did you all go in so quickly?” Tsukihi sighed, running her fingers through her hands. “Shouldn't you have checked?”

“The girl,” Saori said.

“Yeah, there was a girl what ran into the place,” Bella elaborated, at the curious glances directed around. “Never actually caught up to her, but she was real strikin'! Young girl, 'round Mai's age, prolly? And she had pure white hair, and red eyes. Zoe ran after her real quick-like.”

“White hair?” Mai asked, her eyes a touch wide behind her glasses. Ryo's eyes widened, too. Bella nodded. “Strange...”

“Phanny didn't seem to know she was there, neither, not until we saw her again later. We never caught up to her, though, and she might still be stuck in there with those guys!” Bella said, nervously adjusting a lock of her hair. “'Course, Phanny didn't seem to know 'bout those shooters, neither. Even helped us.”

“That's... curious,” Tsukihi said, rubbing her chin. “Dr. Kitachi. Do you know this girl?”

“I...” Zoe shook her head, placing her hand on the left side of her face. “I _shouldn't_. I did know someone with white hair, once, but...”

“But?” Tsukihi asked.

“Well, she's dead, ma'am,” Zoe answered. Minato, Juri, and Kenichiro all leaned in with faces such that they were certainly urging her to dish. “Mr. Washizu—”

“I _love_ gossip,” Kenichiro said, a wide, toothy grin on his face.

“It's just, that girl resembled a girl I knew in high school, who... perished,” Zoe said. “Memory is fickle, so I can't confirm what she actually looks like, necessarily, but... the resemblance _felt _rather striking.” She looked down, and her face twitched. “I would really rather not speak any further on the subject right now.”

Mai spoke up. “It certainly couldn't be that same girl, though.” Zoe looked up. “You're in your thirties, right, Kitachi-_sensei_? Even if it were this girl, she couldn't have simply not aged in...”

“Fourteen years,” Zoe offered.

“Thank you very much,” Mai responded, and bowed her head.

“White hair and red eyes isn't common,” Wataru said. He crossed his legs, right over left, and started adjusting the wrists of his gloves. “I've seen people like that in stories and stuff, but I've never run into one personally. Whoever this mystery girl is, she can't be that hard to figure out.”

“Hopefully, she'll still be alive tomorrow, or she's escaped,” Tsukihi said. She placed her hands flat on the table. “The island isn't very large, and it seems that these assailants aren't interested in leaving this supermarket.”

“Aren't there only supposed to be thirteen people on the island, though?” Juri asked. She frowned. “Now there's nineteen.”

“Hold on, now,” Bella said. “Just 'cause there's only thirteen o' _us_, the folks in the game, don't mean that there couldn't be other folks. Maybe they're part of the game!”

“Right,” Mai said, opening her eyes a bit wider. “It's possible those assailants are here as part of the recreation! You said the victim was injured, yes? Then they might be actors meant to represent robbers in an armed robbery, or something along those lines.”

“So they paid actors to shoot us,” Zenji said, frowning. “What happened to 'not intending to kill anyone', huh? Hey! Mummy bitch!”

A screen sadly erupted itself from the ceiling, placing itself in the center of the table. Phanuel, with a bandage on its head, appeared. “Nagisa said it was 'still within project parameters'... I really didn't know about them, though!” Phanuel's arms waved around.

“Where's Ayana-_san_?” Mai asked.

“She said she was planning to greet you guys again tomorrow morning...” Phanuel rubbed its head. “Ow. I have a headache.”

“You can't have a headache, you're a CG model,” Zenji said.

“I can too!” Phanuel protested. “I worked really hard, you know! I hit that guy right in the chin, like 'Don!'” That was an audible sound effect that was accompanied by a cutesy little punching motion. Phanuel then looked down sadly. “Sorry... I really wish I could help you guys more, but...”

“It's alright, Phanny, go back to bed. A growin' kid with gender problems needs their rest!” Bella patted her bicep.

“Mm'kay. Night, guys. Sleep well.” Phanuel returned whence it came, and a smattering of people wished it a good night.

“I'd like to begin establishing rules for exploration,” Tsukihi said, steepling her hands again. “Nobody is allowed to leave by themselves. Ensure you're prepared before you go to inspect either of those buildings, and go in groups of at least four.”

“Seriously...?” Anzu rolled her eyes.

“Yes, _seriously_,” Tsukihi said. She let out a brief sigh before continuing. “Not only is it clearly dangerous, but leaving alone could let our Prince alter evidence unseen. In addition, I'd like to appoint a few lead investigators— I believe it would be wise to ensure that level-headed, capable individuals are always present.”

“That's fair,” Park said, nodding. “Don't pick me!”

“I'm not,” Tsukihi said, and Park breathed a sigh of relief. “Picking myself would be nepotistic, so I'd like to nominate Mai, Wataru, and Bella.”

Three simultaneous 'what's. Wataru got his further out first. “Me?” he asked.

“Based on my observations, you seem like a level-headed man. You're, let's say, a strapping young lad with a good head on your shoulders. Would anyone disagree?” Tsukihi asked.

Ryo, in particular, shook his head vehemently. “Wataru's good.”

“M-me, though, Itagaki-_san_?” Mai pointed at herself. “Surely someone else would—”

“Nah, you're exactly the kind of level-headed investigator dope that's good for this,” Anzu said, putting her head in her hands.

“I find myself agreeing,” Juri said.

“Honestly, yeah, I'd trust you with my life,” Kenichiro shrugged. Ryo nodded in agreement.

“And you, Ms. Duke,” Tsukihi continued. Bella yiped, and immediately stood up out of her seat to stand at attention. “...You helped save multiple lives, including my daughter's. You're clearly quite capable.”

“What, me?” Bella bent her wrist and chuckled. “Nawww. Naw, I'm just a lonely country gal, Mrs. Itagaki, I swear! I—”

“You two are both like that,” Anzu said. Mai and Bella both looked at her. “You don't look like it at first, but you're pretty keen.”

“But Mai's all polite and serious,” Minato said, balancing a fork on his lip, “and Bella's Bella.”

“And none other, for sure,” Bella nodded.

“You know, it seems like we're all just taking for granted we're going with what the old lady says,” Zenji said, looking very much like he wanted to put one leg up on the table.

“I mean, is she wrong?” Kenichiro said, and Zenji muttered that it was pretty solid picks.

“...Well, in that case,” Mai said, looking around, “might I see the evidence you've all gathered so far?”

The first item on the list was the map Saori had drawn, placing the crime scene within Kansai Super, at Aisle Five. The victim had been injured here, though... “Phanuel-_san_ said the injury wasn't fatal, correct?” Mai asked.

“Mmhm,” Saori nodded.

“So, for whatever reason, this person must have been caught in the crossfire,” Mai said. She nodded. “May I see the full poem? You received it, right?”

Saori, who had kept the papers, nodded, and handed it to Mai. Mai then received the original slip from Wataru. “Alright, let's see... Do you mind if I read it aloud, everyone?”

“I certainly wouldn't. I'm not sure I can read right now, haha!” Park said. He could, but he didn't want to.

Mai proceeded to read aloud the tale of the Lackadaisical Prince, and it, too, was submitted into evidence for the group's consideration. There were a variety of reactions from the crowd, some curious, some pensive.

“So, do you think the fire is literal or metaphorical?” Minato chuckled. “Maybe it's some kind of word game, like... a foster care with the kanji for flame in the name, or something.”

“I don't know yet,” Mai said, “but that is worth keeping in mind. Thank you, Minato_-san._ Now, there were five assailants, yes? Each armed?” This motion passed, as it matched the earlier testimony. “Then, in an armed robbery of a supermarket in the Kansai region, the victim was shot in Aisle Five, presumably by one of the robbers. However, we don't know that the Prince was the one who shot her, necessarily. The outside lights were not on, so it was still light out, and if it is truly a recreation, then the store was certainly operating normally. Anzu, you've been fidgeting with something in your pocket, is that the wallet Bella mentioned earlier?”

Anzu blinked, and then scurried to pull it out. “Uh, yeah,” she said, with a look on her face as though she'd forgotten it was there aside from her unconscious habit.

“Oh, is that where you put it?” Bella reacted with some surprise. “Tell you the truth, I plumb forgot about it!”

“Understandable,” Mai said, nodding, “it was a high pressure situation.” Taking the wallet, she opened it up and placed it on the table for everyone to see before beginning to rifle through it. Credit cards, old receipts... A flash of the eyes. “Here it is,” she said.

The driver's license photo was not particularly flattering, but when are they ever? Mine captures me blushing a bit overmuch. This one, though, depicted a woman, born on July 17, 2011, making her thirty-two at that time. Brown-haired, brown-eyed, with fairly luscious eyelashes. “This wallet belongs to 'Emi Shinoe,'” Mai said, “thirty-two years old today. If this is a recreation of the scene as it was during the crime, then I can narrow down the crime to a roughly two-year possible period.”

It took a moment, but Juri realized it first. “Oh yeah, the expiration date!”

“This license was issued in 2036,” Mai said, “and licenses expire one month after the owner's birthday, two years after its issuing. Shinoe-_san_ was born on July 17th, and this license was issued in 2036, so its expiration is August 17th, 2038. I doubt she would be going to the grocery store with an expired ID, so in all likelihood...”

“She got shot four to six years ago,” Zenji said, nodding.

“Exactly,” Mai said. “However, with these receipts, we can perhaps narrow down the time further. Kitachi-_sensei_, would you begin going through them?”

“Oh, of course.” Zoe got to work.

“Given that we know the victim is female, and that this recreation was made to be solvable by Nagisa_-san,_ there's a good likelihood that this woman, Emi Shinoe, is the victim,” Mai said. “However, we don't have much information aside from that on her. It's possible, though, that we might find some in that library across the way—I imagine that's why Nagisa-_san_ put it there. We'll also need to inspect that, along with making a plan to more thoroughly inspect the inside of Kansai Super without running afoul of too much danger.”

“Anything else?” Kenichiro asked.

“Hm... Is there any other location of note?” A third flash of the eyes. “Zenji-_san_?”

“Huh?” Zenji blinked, a bit taken aback.

“When I asked that aloud, your gaze subconsciously shifted towards the right. Did you see something on your right that you found out of place?” Mai asked.

After a moment's thought, Zenji lit up. “Oh, yeah, actually...” He nodded to himself, and put his hand over his mouth in consideration. “As we were driving out, I was in the passenger seat, and a bit to our right, I noticed this one car that looked a bit more vivid than the others in the parking lot. Red car, a bit old these days, but it looked in great condition. There were skid marks under the tires, though, so I guess whoever was driving it came in real fast.”

“Being that that's not _inside_ the supermarket, it might be safe to inspect that car. We should make a point to do so, assuming it's not locked,” Mai said. “And if it is, we might have to make another excursion inside to obtain the keys. Aside from that, there's just one thing I find curious, and it's just a minor curiosity.”

“Which is?” Tsukihi asked.

“This crime occurred in the Kansai region, and yet none of us present have any noticeable Kansai dialect,” Mai said. “The only one present with a particularly noteworthy dialect is Bella, and she's from Nevada in the United States. There are any number of simple explanations for this, I just thought it was noteworthy.”

There was an awkward pause as Mai finished speaking, and everyone digested what had just happened. After a moment, Mai blinked, started, and then began waving her hands, saying, “Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to steal the floor so dramatically!”

“Congrats, lead investigator!” Minato gave her a big ol' thumbs up, nodding with an open-mouthed grin.

“That's a protagonist, right there.” Juri nodded. She put her chin on her fist. “I'm surprised you don't have an ahoge.”

Mai's eyes darted to the side. “Well—”

“Oh, you mean that one hair that sticks up?” Kenichiro asked. “Yeah, I noticed she must've started gelling that down—”

“_Kenichiro_!” Mai shrieked, turning bright red, beginning to sputter.

“Congratulations on being the protagonist now,” Saori said. “I hear it's nice.”

“Woooo!” Bella cheered. “Whaddya say at a moment like this?” She looked around.

“Oh, don't worry, I got this, here's what you do,” Kenichiro leaned in. Then, once more— “Banzai! Banzai!”

“Banzai! Banzai!” Bella joined him.

At Mai's despairing gaze, Ryo just laughed a little, and Anzu offered, “Yeah, you kinda brought this on yourself, not gonna lie.”

“I see my judgment wasn't wrong, Mai.” Tsukihi gave her one more appraising glance. “Impressive.”

“I have a question,” Saori said, raising her hand.

“Yes, Aoyama?” Tsukihi asked.

“When do we eat? I'm hungry.” Saori's stomach growled with perfect timing.

—I will spare you the comedy of errors that resulted from thirteen very tired people attempting to either aggressively avoid cooking or obsequiously force their way past other obsequiousness to become the one who tried to cook first. After all, there were allergies to consider, thirteen people to cook for, and other such sundries to go through, and that would be so much unnecessary detail that even I find myself blanching at the thought.

So, I will just assure you that the food that, as it turned out, Wataru was given the chance to make, was perfectly sufficient to sate thirteen appetites, no matter how Zenji grumbled about how adequate it was, or how Anzu fervently attempted to avoid having to look at her mother no matter how many times her gaze obviously wanted to fly over there. A rotation was decided on for the time being, and with that, the meeting was adjourned.

After all, Zenji did not want to speak about his own suspiciousness, such as knowing Nagisa. Zoe would rather not speak on the subject of this dead woman she had known. None of them wanted to discuss anything too much further—twelve of them could just focus on uncovering one person's sin, for the time being, and force their own out of their minds, for their own sakes.

“Ryo,” Mai asked, “are you going to be alright sleeping by yourself?”

After a moment's hesitation, Ryo nodded. “Yes.” Mai knelt down and ruffled his beanie, and the hair under it with it, while taking care to avoid his ears. Ryo smiled.

It was night, now, the sun having set on this island and Zephyr-Lily Mansion, the idyllic beauty of day giving way to a vast field of stars. The moon glowed over the water, as the flower field and installations took on all-new hues beneath the clear, dark sky. Several had relished the opportunity to go to sleep, perhaps wondering on the identity of the Prince, or thinking about the girl who they had seen inside Kansai Super. Perhaps some of them thought that once they slept, they would wake up to find this was all just a dream.

A few looked out. Ryo, from his window, looked down upon that flower field which he found so odd before. Why did he find it so odd? he wondered. Something about this flower field was wrong, no matter how pretty it was. Why was he so unsettled? He felt like he might know, but the words would not stop evading him.

Bella, too, sat on her side's deck, staring up at the sky. She had found a book from the second floor. “Alright, Bella,” she said, clapping, “time to put that degree of yours to work, girl.” This book was an atlas of stars, a simple guide to astronomy—a subject in which she actually had a Master's.

And, finally—

“You didn't say everything there, right?” Kenichiro said, as he and Mai sat on the beach once more, on the other side. “You had to have noticed something else.”

“I did,” Mai said, nodding. “But that would be an unfair advantage, yes? Nobody would believe me. It's better to back up my theories with evidence that everyone will be able to notice, such that my theory seems better-founded.”

Kenichiro chuckled. “Yeah, you always were a nerd.” He smiled.

“Kenichiro...” Mai trailed off. Kenichiro reached over and ruffled her hair. “Hey.”

“You make it too easy, kid!” Kenichiro laughed. It was a loud, earnest laugh from the belly.

On that night, as the moon hung heavy over the thirteen sinners on this isolated island, thoughts racing, sins weighing down the chests of those marching slowly towards their eventual punishment—

I prayed

and wished

and pleaded

and cried, and cried, and cried

hoping that this really all was

just a horrible, unbelievable, despicable nightmare

that I'd wake up from in the morning.


	8. Welcome to Sinner Hunter, 4 ~ To Sleep, Perchance To Dream

The late-autumn air put a chill to the bone as I gathered my concentration. Light shone through the window from between the blinds, and I adjusted my glasses on my nose with my left hand, causing a glint in my eye. My years of training on table manners had fortified me to not flinch from such a thing, though—I was a warrior on the hunt.

With a single, swift, decisive motion, I launched my hand forward and, in my chopsticks, clasped my target—_Musca domestica_.

“Hey, you did it, Yuki!” My landlord clapped. “Who needs exterminators with you around, right?”

This was how I was spending my eighteenth birthday, apparently. I briefly leaned back towards the island in the center of her kitchen, clean, white, very presentable. “Your vote of confidence is appreciated, but exterminators have much more knowledge of how to actually stop an infestation and prevent their ingress.”

“I've never even heard that word before!” This was my landlord, a woman by the name of Makiko Nishishita. She was, at the time, fifty-one, married but divorced, with two sons, and essentially a second mother to her brother's children along with her own. Gray streaks in her hair were beginning to become more and more evident, as were her nasolabial folds' increasing definition and the addition of wrinkles on her skin, but her chestnut brown hair and eyes, as well as her surprisingly thick arm muscles, still gave her a surprisingly vivacious air... as did her attitude.

She laughed loudly, her hands on her waist, as I continued to snap at the flies with my chopsticks. Lesser people might have been stymied by them, but evidently, I had put all of my points at character creation into Dexterity.

By this point, I had been living in the apartment complex Mrs. Nishishita ran for roughly two and a half years. She made little secret of the fact that she was quite fond of me, as became evident once again when I put down my chopsticks, disposed of my victims, and was immediately wrapped in a hug. “You're a dear, Yuki,” Mrs. Nishishita said. “I don't know what I'd do without my friendly neighborhood samurai!”

“Hire an exterminator?” I asked, and she laughed again. “You're lucky that at this point, I'm no longer a child. Otherwise, I could sue you for child labor law violations.”

“Oh, stop it, stop it,” Mrs. Nishishita giggled, and I smiled tiredly at her.

Her house was just across from the apartment complex, so I often got to pass by when I left the apartment. Thus was how I was wrapped up in this today. “So!” She clapped, once the hug ended. “The big one-eight, eh, kiddo? You're already more adult than most adults I know, so don't go putting the rest of us out of our jobs!”

“I should only need one job,” I replied.

“Well, now that you're turning into an old crone...” Oh, no. I knew what that glint in her eyes meant. “My nephew turned seventeen the other day—”

“I'm not marrying your nephew, Makiko,” I said. I saw her start to rev up again. “Or your niece.”

Mrs. Nishishita gasped, in faux shock. “But she graduated valedictorian! I'm sure you'd have a lot to talk about!”

“I'm not on the market, Makiko,” I said, and put my hand up to my forehead. “I don't have any plans to leave for the foreseeable future, so don't worry, you aren't getting rid of me until you get rid of me.”

“Well, that's good to hear,” Mrs. Nishishita said, suddenly turning all business as she began organizing her pantry. “This might sound a bit rude, but—”

“'You seem like the kind of girl who's sure to get herself wrapped up in a dangerous lady's wake, the good, corruptible sort,'” I said, beginning my impression. “'Why, how do I know you haven't already gotten yourself wrapped up in some kind of dangerous escapade! I mean, how many ordinary teen girls come in without a cent to their _fake_ name—'”

Mrs. Nishishita put her hands on my shoulders. “Yes, but quit that.”

The circumstances in which I'd come to live in Apartment 408 were complicated. At the time, a friend of Mrs. Nishishita's had called in a favor to assist me, a teenager on their own, so I had received the apartment at a vastly lowered rate at first. “Yuki _is_ my real name, you know,” I said, and this was not a lie. That is, in fact, what I would still call myself, as of this writing.

“Well yes, I don't doubt that, but you were still a, what, fifteen-year-old girl coming in using the surname 'Yamada' like it was going out of style?” Mrs. Nishishita said. (The subject of my gender, or... relative lack thereof, was a subject that I had yet to breach with her, as it felt something like a matter of splitting hairs.)

'Yamada' is, for those unfamiliar, a surname often used by those wishing to hide their identities, or for unidentified corpses. Technically, my legal surname, for what little that currently mattered, was no longer a secret, as I trusted her; however, at the time I'd needed secrecy, and by this point I felt no reason that it would be necessary for her to know or for me to use.

“So really, are you sure you don't want me to call Ozzie over to celebrate? I can bring my kids, too, we can throw you a birthday party!” Mrs. Nishishita said, slowly entering my zone of control to float the idea past my defenses.

“I'm sure Mr. Crowley is busy. He's an important man, Makiko,” I said. I started to turn around, but then a fruitcake was shoved into my face. “Eh—?”

“This is from the ladies up in 306,” Mrs. Nishishita said. It was made using mysteriously old ingredients. “The ones who—”

“Ah, yes, those two,” I said. 306 was home to a lesbian couple, one old-fashioned Japanese and one indistinctly European, who I suspected were at least partially supernatural on account of the fact that Mrs. Nishishita was unsure of when exactly she had leased to them. They made good fruitcake, though. “I'll humbly accept their gift, but I really should be going.” I began to turn around again. The truth was that the thought of a birthday party for me made me feel extremely awkward on a deep, soul-felt level, but I couldn't say that out loud because that would make me even more embarrassed.

“Okay, okay.” Mrs. Nishishita said. “Go spend time with whoever you like.” She turned to stare at her sink. “Me, I'll be over here... lonely, without my kids... or you...”

Having let me live here this long as a minor was, in truth, an incredibly kind thing for her to do to begin with. I was greatly indebted to Makiko Nishishita. With that said, I could never in my life, or at least at that point, survive her dedicating an entire day to me, even my birthday.

Once I returned from my as-planned grocery trip, I shut the door firmly and sighed heavily. “Makiko-_san_ was being pesky again, wasn't she?” Mai asked, from her seat in the center of the room.

“One of these days, I'm going to need to get you to talk to her,” I sighed, my thumb fidgeting with the scabbard of my sword. “...Do I really seem like that kind of person? The sort to get wrapped up in a dangerous woman's wake?”

“That seems more like me, if you ask me,” Mai said, and I nodded, because it did. Then she giggled. “Though, maybe I am somewhat dangerous. After all, it's—”

“'You must understand that it's woman's nature to be both kind and manipulative— outwardly caring, but cold— gentle, yet ruthless.'” I recited the words. I always hated how well I could mimic them. It unnerved me.

Onto the couch with me, then, to stuff my enervation. “Well...” Mai trailed off for a moment. “You are my 'faithful shadow', right, Yamada-_san_?”

“That I am,” I said, nodding.

“So, if I were to determine that it would be best for me to throw myself off of a bridge into Tokyo Bay—?” Mai asked.

“You say that as though I would have a choice in the matter,” I responded.

“That's fair,” Mai said. “So... who did she offer to you this time?”

“Her college-age niece and graduating nephew,” I responded. “Though I imagine the latter was a joke.”

The two of us looked at each other. Our gazes grew faux-stern. “'As far as romantic partners go, I must confess I find the forms of men distasteful.'” Then we both laughed. “That was you originally, right?” Mai asked.

“No, I'm sure that was you,” I said. “None other than Mai Orihara.”

“Hmph.” Mai puffed out her cheeks. “You say that, but it sounds more like you.”

I slumped into the couch. “Either way, we'll never live it down.”

After saying that, though, I found myself stricken with a bout of antsiness, so I leaned forward again, running my hands through my hair. It occurred to me that it was a bit stringy, so I must not have washed it for at least a day or two. “Is it... okay for us to live like this?” I asked aloud.

“Is it?” Mai asked back at me.

“That doesn't help me,” I responded.

“Yuki...” Mai leaned in and began to hold me. “Are you alright?”

_A voice from behind._

_“Go, if you want. I only need to wait. You'll understand someday, and you'll come back.”_

_“...”_

_“Well?”_

_“And if I don't come back?”_

_“Are you so desperate for validation that you need to ask me?”_

_“I—”_

_“Be seeing you, then. Learn what it **really** takes to live in this world and come back. Become a true daughter of the Orihara family.”_

_“...”_

_“...Don't die. I do love you, you know. You will always have a place at our table.”_

_“...I know.”_

Dreaming of the past was one of my least favorite things to realize I was doing. When it happened, I awoke with sweats more often than not, cold, clammy sweats. My sheets were damp, and my surroundings blurry... but not so blurry I could not recognize where I was.

Ah. So it had not been a dream. I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed before looking down at my palm. There was nothing special about it.

There was a window just near my bed, so I looked out to the sky, after putting on my glasses. It was the same sky I had seen from my window yesterday. Not the crowded skies of the city, but the shining, bright blue skies of this isolated island.

With great effort, I forced myself away from there to the restroom, to stare at myself in the sink's mirror. I laughed. I looked ghastly. My eyes had bags underneath, and my hair was once again becoming scraggly from the stress of the situation. I looked as drawn as I felt, as though I hadn't slept at all.

“...Phanuel,” I said. “Could I have some coffee before I leave?”

Surprisingly, the angel appeared on its screen as usual in response. “Are you sure?” Phanuel asked, looking a little concerned. “You look like you could use some more sleep.”

“I don't want to sleep more,” I responded. “Why are you so concerned...?”

“I—” Phanuel began.

“If you're so concerned... take me home,” I said. “Let me leave... and give it back. Give it back, Phanuel.”

“Um, you mean...?” Phanuel pondered for a moment. “Your sword?”

“Give it back,” I repeated, and curled up against the wall, my head in my hands. No matter how much I felt, though, my voice was a monotone croak. “Give it back. Give it back. Give it back, give it back, give it back. I don't want to go out there without it. Give it back. Give it back. Give it back. Give it back. Give it back. Give it back.”

“H-here's your coffee,” Phanuel said, delivering me a mug of coffee.

“Give it back.” A drink of hot black which burnt my taste buds. “Give it back.” Another. “Give it back.” So many of my belongings, and yet, and yet. “Give it back.” It wasn't there. “Give it back.”

It was like a hum in the back of my head. 'Give it back. Give it back. Give it back. Give it back. Give it back.' The back of my skull felt like it was burning.

...People, when hearing it, often assume that my name, Yuki, means 'snow.' This is incorrect. Though my name is Yuki, it is nevertheless written as 'yuuki', for courage, and courage means doing what you are afraid to do.

So I stood up and began shambling towards my clothes.

* * *

The events of the second morning properly began when Juri, who had awakened early once more, run out of her room hollering about being late, and remembered again that she had been kidnapped, headed downstairs to the basement to try and find anyone else who was awake. There, she found Kenichiro and Bella considering intensely at a door she had not entered before, near its back, well past the garage. “Uh, hi?” She waved.

“Ah-ha!” Bella clapped, spinning smoothly on her heel. “Don't you have good tim—nice glasses,” Bella said, her jaw slightly slack, blinking.

Juri, this morning, had decided that since she was likely going to die that she was going to go out using her otaku-standard spiral glasses, which looked ridiculous, but did, in fact, work slightly better and fit more comfortably on her face than her regular glasses. “Yeah, thanks,” Juri said, “what are you doing?”

“Deciding who gets the key to the wine cellar,” Kenichiro explained, swinging a metal key loop around on his left index finger. He scratched his beard with the other hand.

“Now, both Mr. Washizu and I are partakers of liquid courage from time to time,” Bella said, waving her hand around, “so we've been debatin' and all. You drink, sweetheart?”

“Uhhh, no?” Juri blinked, but neither of them could see it behind her glasses. Her posture was a bit rigid.

“_We have found her, Sister Duke!_” Kenichiro bellowed, a strangely serious look coming over his face, his fists tightening.

“_Indeed we have!_” Bella replied, and she took the key loop, then swooped into Juri's personal space to open her hand and place the key inside. “Congrats, sweetie! You get to be the booze keeper!”

“...Uhhh...” Juri looked down at the key in her hand, taking a moment to understand the enormity of the duty she had just been placed with. Then, visible even with her new glasses, her brow furrowed, her fist clenched, and she began to hunch over. “Hu hu hu... I see...”

“Eh?” Kenichiro snorted.

“Such a task is well within my powers, friends,” Juri responded, before straightening up, putting her hands on her hips, and standing stiff, staring up into the sky. “You see, Accounting Assistant Juri Sonohara is, by day, your average OL, but she carries a deadly secret.” With an odd glint of light, she pushed up her glasses on her nose. “By night, she is taken over by an otherworldly force, and filled with the power of the devils of greed!” She began to pose like an anime character. “Becoming the online crusader 'Achtzehn', she takes to the battlefield of the deep web, and never budges on the minutiae of measurements of any Mobile Suit!”

“Ah,” Kenichiro nodded. “Another nerd.”

Juri continued to... gesticulate. “A primo nerd, sir! I am proud to call myself an otaku! From the day Amuro Ray first took hold of the controls of the RX-78-2, I have never once budged on my opinions, which are all correct and filled with many, many facts, exhaustively researched from long, lonely nights wishing for the comfort of another human being!” By this point, she had hunched over, clutching at her heart, one hand against the wall, undergoing an entire theater performance in her own mind, no doubt.

“Oh, I like _Precure_!” Bella proclaimed. This was a genuine statement.

“The black boxes within _Xenogears_'s Weltall! _RahXephon_'s clay Dolems, and _Evangelion_'s manifestations of Freudian psychology, which technically don't even count as robots! _Build Fighters_,_ 08th MS Team_, even _SEED! _The childish sorrow of _VIFAM_, or the bald hilarity of the _Mazinger_ cast's appearances in _CB Chara Go Nagai World_! _Nadesico_! _Gaiking_! Even Western additions like _Pacific Rim_, or _Megas XLR_!” Juri had to pause, at this point, to pant a bit. She had not been prepared this morning to go on such a rant.

“...Ooookay?” Kenichiro tilted his head.

“What I'm trying to communicate is that I am one who does not budge on anything, not anything, of the many charges I have taken upon myself as the starling mecha otaku Achtzehn. As such!” Juri spun around from panting, at this point having bent about ninety degrees past her own waist, backwards, to point at the other two. “You may rest assured that this key is in the greatest of hands, the least budging! _None shall pass by me! I am like the deadliest of the world's hawks! This hand of mine shall glow with the righteous fury of protecting this key!_”

With her statement finished, the mad energy of the devils of greed left Juri's body, and the pretzel she had twisted herself into collapsed. She fell to her knees on the floor, hands on the ground, panting, taking off her glasses for the moment so they did not fall. “I, _hahhh_, also like, _hahhh_, modern-day... romance anime...”

There was a few moments' worth of silence as Juri caught her breath before Kenichiro said, “Okay?” with one eyebrow raised.

“That's great, honey,” Bella said, her eyes closed, her face affixed in a motherly smile, as she nodded. “I'm real happy for you.”

“Ahaha, yeah,” Juri said, nodding on the floor, “I'm about to die, I might as well go out with a bang.”

“Ohhh, it's _nihilism_,” Kenichiro said. He crossed his arms. “What if you don't die?”

“Then I've stopped messily attempting to hide the fact that I'm a disaster of a human being long enough for, oh, twelve other kidnapping victims to see the degree of my messiness.” The smile on Juri's face did not go well with her words, but perhaps it was delirium. “I'm gonna die!” She laughed a little under her breath.

“Well, now I'm actually kinda concerned, really, are you alright?” Bella said, her smile turning upside-down. She pattered over the few small steps to reach Juri, and put her hands on the panting woman's shoulders.

There was a small noise, and it took Bella a moment to realize that it had been Juri squeaking from the personal contact. “Uh, you alright, sweetheart?” Bella said, as she pulled up the stiffening Juri to standing position.

Juri did not respond for a moment, but then turned around on her heels and grabbed Bella's hand, causing the American to yipe. “_Your hands are so soft what the hell?!_” The look on Juri's face was one of surprise, but also fascination. “Okay, I've been holding this in since yesterday, are you _real_?!”

“Uhhhhh...” Bella trailed off, her eyes darting to the sides. “I reckon so?”

“Are you sure? I would believe you were a hallucination, don't worry,” Juri said, her gaze not changing at all.

“Ehh, nope, pretty sure I shot a fella yesterday,” Bella returned her gaze now, nodding.

“Right, right, you've been observed outside of my view multiple times. Wait. Is your dad some kind of single, reclusive roboticist who designed lifelike androids to fill a gaping void in his life?!” Juri was still talking.

“I-I'm not- I'm not a- I ain't some kinda robot, Juri,” Bella said, beginning to blush. “He, uh, he's a plumber these days. My daddy, I mean.”

“Wait, do you work? Do you, like, have a job?” Juri was... still talking.

“Excuse you! I'll have you know I've got a Master's in astronomy!” Bella said, and this remark, delivered with the utmost seriousness, was what got Kenichiro to go from stifling his laughter to full-on howling. “Wha—”

“_Space sciences?!_” With a loud 'pfffft', Kenichiro revved up for another long burst of laughter. “The cowgirl's a fucking space scientist, oh my god!”

“W-well, what is so surprising about that?” Bella stamped her foot, and turned to Juri, who was staring. “What?”

“...That's a surprisingly specific answer,” Juri blinked. “I—” She shook her head. “Wow, suddenly I know where I am again.”

“Oh, delirium's cleared up? That's lovely, sweetheart,” Bella said, with a kind smile, before turning back to Kenichiro with a loud, stern frown. “Now, you, mister, what on Earth are you laughing about?”

“Come on, I just, pffft, I didn't— didn't expect that—” Kenichiro had to take a moment to wheeze. “Ahh, geez. Come on, you look like a fairy tale princess. That's so...”

“Realistic,” Juri finished, and Kenichiro pointed at her and muttered, 'yeah, that's the ticket.'

After a moment, Bella blushed and bashfully sank into herself a little. “Well, I _did_ always wanna be a princess when I was a littlun...” Then she began to pout. “Aww, I shoulda kept my mouth shut. Kept up my mystique.”

Kenichiro shrugged, walked up, and put his arm around her, chuckling. “Ah, geez. You ladies and your mysteries.”

“Says Mr. Shady,” Juri said, snorting.

“Us men and our mysteries,” Kenichiro added. “'Man's at best a contradiction still', or something like that, right?” He took a deep breath in, and let out a satisfied sigh. “Ahh, yeah. Hey, kid. Juri, right?” Juri snapped to attention. “If we are gonna die, let's bust out the wine then and we can spend our last moments with fine wine and finer company. Right?”

“Right, yeah, sure,” Juri nodded. She smiled. “And I'll even give Park some if he asks nicely—” She then paused, and looked at her own outstretched finger. “Wait, are we bonding?”

“Seems like,” Bella nodded.

“Wow, okay, I guess there are upsides to the whole getting stuck in a mansion thing,” Juri said, slowly nodding, her mouth the slightest bit agape. Bella smiled back at her, and Juri, still processing, lamely let out a “Man, you're cute.” The shriek Bella emitted was enough to get Kenichiro started again.

* * *

Bad things happened when Jong-ki Park was sober. This, apparently, included an inability to get drunk again. Nursing a slight hangover, he did not weep over the locked door, but I assure you he felt it deep within his soul.

Opting to walk to work off his headache and at least be as comfortable as possible in his nightmarishly inebriation-free state, Park passed by Ryo, giving a small wave to the boy, who did not respond, as he was currently looking through the displays for something.

Park muttered to himself as he left the manor, stepping out onto the deck. There were, perhaps, a few more clouds than yesterday, but the sky above Zephyr-Lily Mansion was still as brilliantly blue as ever, as was the ocean beneath that sky.

“No, no. No.” Park sighed through his teeth, shaking his head and raising his hands as he began to walk. “No, I shouldn't be acting this messy, I have a fan here. That doesn't happen often. What would Mai think? Well, she might think I'm a loser, which I am, but still, I do have some degree of a reputation to uphold as an author of reasonably satisfying literary works. Jong-ki Park, you are an adult here. Of the people present at this place, you are the... how old is Ms. Duke, um... t-the point is, you are on the upper half of the median, probably, you are an _adult_, you need to shape up for once in your life.”

It is worth mentioning that as he stepped off the deck and down onto the sand, he began waving his finger at himself like a chiding parent. “You, sir, young man though you still are, are at some level an authority figure. Think about that. Ryo, Mai, Anzu, p-probably Miss Saori, too, they need as many reliable adult figures as they can. Certainly you don't have a reliable bone in your body, you miserable little worm, but you can pretend for a while, can't you? Pretend to be a reasonably good person? Shape up! Act like you went to med school like your parents wanted, but also still be an author because you haven't jumped to an alternate timeline or anything like that. Perform a temporal impossibility in the name of being helpful to children! You like children, don't you?”

“Yes! Okay!” Park fist-pumped to himself. “Yes! It's time to become a respectable adult for the first time in my life! No matter how deeply I wish to make things easier for myself with alcohol! Yes!”

There was a moment's silence.

“Dear god, everything is going to go horribly_. I am sober. This is a nightmare! **No!**_” Park clutched his head and began sweating.

There was another moment's silence.

“But, that doesn't mean I can't do it! There are plenty of people who become respectable adults without over-reliance on recreational drug use! I've even written a few, haha! That must mean I have some idea how to do it, right? _I will do it! I will become reliable!_” Park proclaimed to the sky.

It was only once he heard a faint “Wooooo! Go, Park!” from out on the ocean that Park remembered that other human beings existed in physical space. Park, summarily, turned bright red, let out an undignified squeak, and whipped his head out to the ocean.

—His first thought was, _they have surfboards here_? He was transfixed by the sight. Now that this ocean had gone from placid to providing proper waves, out past the beach, atop the blue, a figure rode atop the sea's waves. To Park's eyes, it seemed to be a dark-skinned woman in a fairly immodest purple bikini, who, with fortuitous timing, performed a gob-smacking maneuver in front of his face. I am told this is referred to as a 'Kerrupt flip'; she launched above the wave, then, while airborne, crouched down and grabbed both rails while performing a 360-degree rotation before landing, having retained her speed.

“...Eh?” Park blinked. He was not familiar with the ins and outs of surfing, so the daring moves of an expert surfer were beyond him. The surfing woman seemed to have a thing for the air, with indies, kickflips, and something called a superman where one actually removes the board from beneath them to the front while in the air, kicking their legs out behind them. One of Park's good qualities was his vision, so he found himself flapping his gums like a fish at this particularly daring motion, which, to his anxiety-riddled brain, looked like an easy way to get oneself killed.

It was at this moment that Park remembered he could move his mouth, and remembered also that he was stuck on an island. “H-hey! Hey! Excuse me! What are you doing over there?” He called. “Isn't that dangerous?”

“That's the point!” The surfing woman called back.

“Oh, okay!” Park gave an unsteady thumbs up. “My respect for your courage!”

The waves were seeming to die down, or perhaps the surfer was just satisfied, so soon Park was given a more full-frontal view of the scantily-clad surfing somebody. His instinct was to blush and look away, as he was something of a cherry boy, but he attempted his very best to maintain eye contact. Eyes are on the face, Park, he said to himself, eyes are on the face, _eyes are on the face_!

Casually strolling up to him with surfboard underarm, his assailant here leaned in uncomfortably close and said, “You doing okay there, dude? I mean, talking to yourself, yeah, but.”

“A-are you sure you should be dressed like that?” was what Park first stammered out. “I-I mean, we're all essentially strangers here—”

“I mean, usually I surf topless.” This response got Park to let out a _squawk_. He tried very, very, very hard not to think about that. He failed. “I mean, my chest isn't really big enough to get in the way, y'know? And I sure as hell don't wanna surf with a binder on, that's a terrible idea.”

“Uh, a binder?” Park babbled out.

“...Paaark? You okay, dude?” There was then a hand waved in front of Park's face.

“W-wait, um.” Park took a moment to himself, taking the hand out of his face. “Er, wait.” It was then that he registered that no, this was not someone from a faraway beach who had suddenly arrived, and indeed was instead the person he knew with dark skin, blue highlights in his hair, violet eyes, _et cetera_. “...K-Kuromatsu?!” He leapt back.

Minato blinked. “Yeah?” Granted, his hair was much less shaggy when it was wet, falling down to his shoulders with much of its volume drenched and drained of its puff, and certainly he was indeed not currently wearing his binder, his not-unnoticeable chest instead held in the aforementioned bikini, and yes, his _alluringly toned muscles _were now not currently covered by a jumpsuit, meaning Park could actually see his figure, but amazingly, doffing his clothes did not in fact make Minato Kuromatsu a different person.

“Oh! Um!” Park gulped. “Hello! Good, uh, good morning! Good morning! Haha!”

“Man, you must've been _wasted_ last night, huh?” Minato shrugged and walked over to set the surfboard back on its rack.

“I, um. I didn't recognize you without...” Park dumbly pointed up to the ears. “Um, earrings?”

“They're up on the deck,” Minato said, jamming his thumb in that direction. “They're a bit too loose fit for going out on the ocean. Those puppies were expensive!” He put his other hand on his hip. “They're an important part of my look, y'know?”

“Oh, yes, er, definitely,” Park nodded.

Unfortunately for Park, a churlish smirk then came upon Minato, who came up and put his arm around his spectator. “Having fun gawking, bud?” Minato was the shorter of the two, but Park felt very small at the moment.

Park's eyes began to dart around. “What, er, um, n-no! No! I! No!”

“Aww, am I that boring?” Minato let go and slumped over in exaggerated despair.

“Oh, no, you're not boring! I was amazed, you have. I have no idea how you even, er, do any of that, or...” Park trailed off when he saw the grin on Minato's face. “Awwwww.”

“Well, glad you're doing better today!” Minato said, still grinning, and Park suddenly couldn't deny that he did feel a bit better, at least. The sun, unfortunately for Park, was still shining off of his wet skin, which there was far too much of for Park to not look at it at all. “I could teach you, if you want to loosen up a little, which you clearly need to.”

“No, no, I, er. Not right now. Maybe some other time. Thank you,” Park said. Then he gulped. “Um, excuse me. I, ah, I have a question. A very stupid one.”

“I'm a guy,” Minato answered.

“Ah, yes, no doubt you get that question a lot. Thank you for answering.” The blank look on Park's face had not shifted through this part of the conversation. “I hope we can continue to, ah. Have a relationship of mutual betterment.”

“Haha, what?” Minato snorted.

“I don't know. I'm a bit, ah. I'm a touch flabbergasted, I.” Park stopped himself, and took a breath. “Hello, Minato, good morning. Did you sleep well?”

“Like a ba— You know, you ever think about how the phrase is sleeping 'like a baby', but babies actually get up and cry a lot during the night?” Minato tapped his left temple with his index finger a few times. “That's weird, right?”

“You know... That is rather odd, isn't it?” Park's eyes widened.

“That's super weird! I should sue,” Minato said, crossing his arms and nodding to himself.

“Well, please, er, don't go off too hastily. I seem to recall that Ms. Ayana wanted to speak to us this morning, you may want to get dressed?” Park said, twiddling his fingers together a bit.

“Ohhh, right, right,” Minato nodded. “I'll be in my room, then. Take easy, dude! See you in a bit!” With a jaunty wave, Minato began whistling a tune to himself and walked off to his room.

Park took a moment to consider this, calmly walked up to the deck after Minato had gone in, walked into the manor, passed Ryo again, who was now greeting Mai, walked ever-quicker past the two of them into the hallway, opened his door, entered his room, closed his door, locked his door, shuffled past his meager belongings, and began to holler very, very loudly into his pillow. Once, twice, three times, until he was completely out of breath.

Making sounds like he was a balloon that had sprung a leak, Park began to slide awkwardly off of the side of his bed, clenching and un-clenching his hands on his covers.

Knock, knock, knock. “Sensei? It's Orihara. Are you alright?”

Park sputtered to life. “Ah! Mai! Yes! Be right there!” Clapping himself on the face once, twice, three times, he blew air out through his teeth, pumping his fists again. He was visibly a bit flushed when he opened the door to find Mai and Ryo. “What can I do for you?”

“Are...” Mai blinked, a curious look on her face. “Are you alright, Sensei? You seemed disturbed.”

“Oh, no, no, haha, of course not. I'm an adult!” Park proclaimed.

“Don't worry, Sensei. I understand completely,” Mai said, clasping her hands together and bowing. Ryo imitated the gesture. “We're all quite disturbed, I'm sure. I could hardly sleep, myself.”

It was then that Park actually took a closer look. His mother, actually, was quite a makeup fiend, so he was able to recognize the cues to know someone was hiding a long night of crying. Mai Orihara was more made up than she had been before, hiding streaks of tears and who knew what else.

Sighing, Park told his anxiety to stuff it for the moment and put on a more relaxed smile. “Please don't worry about me, Mai, Ryo. I appreciate it, but... w-well, I, er. I really only have myself to blame if I'm worried.” Ryo raised his hand. “Yes, Ryo?”

“We've been... kidnapped,” Ryo responded.

There was a moment of silence.

“And that, I can, uh. I can blame that, yes,” Park nodded.

Right. Okay. Maybe he could do this. Today he was going to perform constructive behaviors! Jong-ki Park would be a proper man, a proper adult! And he would most certainly not lose his head over the surprising sexiness of one of his fellow victims, no matter how much Minato was his type! A proper adult knew restraint!

...For the record, so as not to appear biased, I really do like Mr. Park and consider him a good person. He's just surprisingly easy to make fun of; it's as though the words flow out of my fingers. I never claimed to be a professional author. I wonder if he would do the same about me...?

* * *

When Saori awoke, slinking herself out of bed at a surprisingly early time for her, she greeted the new day by looking out the window and waving at the sun. She looked at her room, which apparently did in fact contain the genuine articles of objects such as her disco ball, purple sequin bathrobe, old-time radio set (which, by the way, still operated, but had not gotten anything on this island,) collection of a very exacting ordering of various anatomical books in a strange mixture of chronological and subject matter ordering, and so on.

Saori Aoyama was a woman of many tastes, when she was awake. She smiled at her objects. Familiarity was nice.

Upon opening her door, Saori found that just outside, standing at its entrance indoors, was the coffee man with the bushy ponytail whose name was definitely not Ulrich. “Eh?” Zenji started awake himself, noticing her entry to the hallway.

“Hi, Zenji,” Saori said, giving a small wave.

“Uh, hey,” Zenji responded, nodding. “I just wanted to make sure... You seemed sleepy, so I didn't want anyone to interrupt, or... you know.” He rubbed the back of his head.

Saori let out a small laugh. “That's sweet. Thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem.” Zenji scowled as he leaned against the wall. “The dining room's already got both of those old ladies in there, so that seemed like a bad idea.”

“Tsukihi and Dr. Kitachi?” Saori asked, and Zenji nodded. Saori slowly raised her hand. Once he noticed, Zenji nodded again to give her consent to speak. “Aren't you older than Dr. Kitachi?”

“I—” Zenji sputtered. “She's old in her soul. I'm sure she doesn't have an ounce of childlike wonder in her heart anymore. They're both withered up.”

“So you have the heart of a child?” Saori tilted her head just the slightest bit.

Zenji grimaced. “Don't—don't say that, that's. That sounds weird. No,” and at this point Zenji began pacing, “I've spent the better part of the last decade rediscovering my sense of childlike wonder!”

“So that's why you're a twelve-year-old?” Saori tilted just a bit more.

“You know what, yeah, sure,” Zenji said, giving a rueful smile. “I'm a twelve-year-old. Laugh it up.”

Saori smiled. “You're also a cup of black coffee.”

“Yeah, uh-huh. I'm a lot of things,” Zenji said. Then, though, he looked away, a slight blush on his face. “I'm... just glad you're alright. You seemed kinda out of it after we got out of there.”

“Ah...” Saori blinked. “I'm alright.”

There was a moment of silence, and then, without another word, the two of them began walking towards the dining room. This, thankfully, was not a far walk, but they came upon a surprising guest skulking about the laundry room on the other side of the hall. Anzu Itagaki glared at a washer, crossing her arms and tapping her foot, though the washer was not currently running. She turned about and about.

Fragments of Tsukihi's voice could be heard from within the dining room, along with Zoe's, and, as it turned out, Wataru's. Saori took a moment to think, then two, then three. She pressed her right temple with her index finger rather hard, and then said, “Hello?”

“Wh—” Anzu jumped back, but spun around to see Saori. “Oh, it's... it's you.”

“Do you want to go in there?” Saori asked, and Zenji looked at her, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“I mean... no. Of course not,” Anzu said. “But I've gotta eventually, right? Otherwise they'll just get pissy.”

Saori took a moment to consider, and then said, “My room?”

This was a very short version of offering that Anzu come to Saori's room to enjoy some further peace and quiet in a room that would not be interrupted, as they had a convenient bodyguard in Zenji Fuyutsuki—a man whose poker face was weak, but whose body certainly was not. “You really just want to see them hate me more, don't you?” Zenji asked Saori, as the three of them headed back to Saori's room.

Shaking her head, Saori said, “No.”

—Thus did the scene become that Anzu had arrived in Saori's room, which was now shut. The privacy aura of the ever-quiet study hog almost visibly settled, and Anzu took a breath of relief as it did. “Uh... thanks,” she said, still a touch in disbelief, and only moreso once she saw Saori's disco ball. “You're...”

“Hm?” Saori raised her eyebrow.

“Geez...” Anzu chuckled under her breath. “There's too many of you people.”

“Oh,” Saori said, nodding her understanding. “Social anxiety is rough.”

“Wh—what, no,” Anzu said, shaking her head. The two had seated themselves on the side of Saori's bed. “It's... never mind.” There were a few moments of contemplative silence before Anzu continued with a, “Thanks.”

Saori smiled. “Mmhm.” There were another few moments of silence. “What are moms like?”

“Huh?” Anzu said, her face showing a bit more surprise than she wanted it to.

“What are moms like?” Saori said, again.

“O-oh,” Anzu said, and looked down into her lap. She pressed her hands down onto the bed next to her thighs, sighed, and then looked up, with her face a bit softer than usual. “Well, um... geez, uh, kinda putting me on the spot here.”

“Sorry,” Saori said. “That's kind of what I wanted to ask, actually.”

Anzu smiled a little. “Moms are... people who wake you up in the morning and say, 'Rise and shine, sleepyhead!' And then they rib you a bit as you're getting up but it's all in good fun. They're always smiling at breakfast, ready for work lickety-split even when you're not ready for school. And, even when people make fun of you at school, they're there to tell you everything's okay. They're... uh, kind... and bright, I guess.”

Before she'd noticed, Anzu had gotten a bit teary. She stifled it back into her throat, and wiped what moisture she had collected away. “I don't remember my parents,” Saori said, getting Anzu to start again.

“Why are you suddenly so chatty?” Anzu asked.

“It's the morning. I'm probably going to crash soon,” Saori admitted.

Anzu took a moment before bending down to look at her lap again. With eye contact broken, she said, “Yeah, I get that.”

“So I wanted to ask you,” Saori said. “Bella has a dad. She talks about him a lot.”

“You think it's an American thing?” Anzu asked.

Saori shook her head. “I've met other Americans. I think Bella just loves her daddy.”

“...Moms don't abandon you. They're always there,” Anzu said, and Saori made a bit of a surprised noise. “Moms... always care.”

“You love her a lot,” Saori said.

“...Yeah. I... loved my mom,” Anzu said. Then she chuckled. “She'd probably be disappointed in me if she saw me now. I'm a mess.”

“You're in high school,” Saori said.

“They say you grow up to be like your parents,” Anzu said, falling back on the bed and sighing, “but I picked the wrong parent to be like, I guess. Why am I talking about this?”

“I asked,” Saori said.

“Yeah, okay.” Anzu let out another low, bitter chuckle. “...She'd definitely be disappointed in me.”

“I don't think that's true,” Saori said, shaking her head. “You seem fine.”

“Eh, I'm just gonna grow up to be another cog in the authoritarian machine, pushing down people who need help and selling my loyalties to the highest bidder,” Anzu shrugged. “It's already happening. God, I hate me.”

“I didn't ask about that,” Saori said, a touch awkward, “but I think you shouldn't hate yourself.”

“...You're sweet. You know that?” Anzu sat back up. “You're a sweet lady. You should take care of yourself, Saori.”

“What about you, Anzu?” Saori asked.

“...Mm.” Anzu looked away. “You don't wanna hear the answer to that.”

“...Oh,” Saori said, looking downcast. “Sorry. Have I been making a mistake?”

“Not your fault you picked the wrong person to talk to,” Anzu said, shrugging again and standing up. “Thanks for trying.” She began to walk towards the outside door.

“I don't think you were the wrong person to talk to,” Saori said.

“Why?” Anzu asked, without turning around. “I mean, what do you get out of it?”

“Well...” Saori had to take a moment to think for this one. “It was good because it was you, I think.”

“It's good because it's Anzu Itagaki, huh...?” Anzu said, her gaze, still turned away, craning just slightly upwards. “Yeah... _as if_.”

Saori wasn't sure if Anzu meant to close the door as hard as she did, but she did so hard enough to make the room shake a bit. She took another few moments to digest, then stood up, opened her door, and stood by Zenji on the wall. “Zenji?” She said.

“Mm?” Zenji raised an eyebrow.

“Having parents seems really complicated,” Saori said.

“Yeah, you don't know the half of it,” Zenji sighed, with his hands in the pockets of his overalls.

* * *

The ocean water did not reflect as cleanly as a pool of still water, so Anzu's reflection was repeatedly washed away by the tides. This ocean which Minato had just been enjoying to the fullest now held a mockery of a face that refused to let loose any tears.

“What are _moms_ like,” Anzu said, gritting her teeth, punching the sand, as she crouched on all fours against the tides. “Why...? Why? Why?!” She gripped her long, red hair.

—It was as though she heard a voice, ringing out like a clear, high bell—but nobody was there. _If you weren't a coward, you'd have done it by now._

“I know, I know,” Anzu said. She gave a rueful chuckle without a hint of mirth. “I have to go and be a hypocrite, too? I really am just the worst, huh... what kind of punishment do you have in mind, huh? It has to be something worse than what I could come up with, right? ...Is this it? Did you do this?”

_I'm not a monster like you, Itagaki._

Though, to others, it might seem blue—oceans only roiled black and hateful for one such as Anzu Itagaki. Black, like the cold, shriveled heart of a long-dead corpse.

“I can't do it...” Anzu did not cry, but she heaved into her hands. “I can't do it... I can't do it...!” She did not sob, but she shivered.

So, for one more day at a time, Anzu Itagaki would stay on land, above the black pits where corpses were laid to rest.

And, in a completely different room—

_I have no right to ask this_, the mind of Tsukihi Itagaki said, in the middle of a conversation about something or another, _but..._

_ Naomi... what should I do?_


	9. Welcome to Sinner Hunter, 5 ~ The White-Haired Girl

A screen descended from the ceiling of the dining room once all thirteen had gathered for breakfast (which had already been served, please do not worry about the details any further). Anzu took a while to come in, but she and Minato wound up entering the room at about the same time. “Oh, hey,” Minato remarked, “it's Phanny.”

“So we're really rolling with the nickname, huh?” Anzu asked.

The screen once again displayed both of the game's hosts, Nagisa Ayana doing her best to remain completely stoic. “Good morning, everyone. How are—”

“Be quiet,” Tsukihi snapped. She returned her gaze to the table. “So, in the interest of leaving nobody alone, I suggest we split into groups of five to investigate both locations.”

“And leave three people to guard the mansion?” Wataru continued, to which Tsukihi nodded.

“That seems reasonable and ergonomic,” said Park, nodding himself, and using very big, adult words.

“...So who died and made you mayor?” Anzu snorted, taking her seat.

“If you have a better suggestion, Anzu, I assure you I am all ears,” Tsukihi said. She pressed her right hand against her left forearm and squeezed. “You of all people would know that I'm qualified for this sort of—”

“'Qualified for this sort of thing',” Anzu mocked, scrunching up her nose to do a poor impression of her mother.

“Hey, now!” Park chimed in, puffing his chest. “It's—you know, it's rude to mock your mother like that. I'm sure she's very qualified for chair mur—nnnhood, chairmanhood, yes!”

“Mr. Park, are you quite alright?” Zoe asked. Her twitch had calmed down with a good night's sleep, so the awkward smile she wore was unmarred. “You seem to be overexerting yourself.”

“I'm an adult!” Park answered, with a wide smile on his face.

Kenichiro grimaced, looking down at his clenched fist. “I-I'm not sure which version of him is worse...!”

“I'm gonna go with the drunk version,” Wataru said.

A moment's pause, and Kenichiro went from playing up his grief to stoically nodding. “Yeah, jokes aside.”

“Isn't this guy supposed to be a thriller author?” Zenji asked, leaning back in his seat. “How does he keep it together long enough to not have a heart attack from his own books?”

“Aww, I'm sure Park's plenty brave when it gets down to it,” Bella smiled. When he looked over at the rare sound of someone actually complimenting him, she gave him a thumbs up. “And I hear he's—” Bella's gaze turned to Mai, who was being quiet—seemingly as usual to the untrained eye. “—a real great author, ain't that right, Mai?”

Mai started. “Huh?”

“Mr. Park's books,” Ryo said, a curious look in his eye.

“Oh!” The opportunity to start ranting about things she cared about livened Mai's face up considerably. “Well, yes, absolutely! As an aficionado of the genres best-suited to delivering heart-pounding tension, rocking the viewers' very cores with trembling anxiety, it's an undeniable truth that Jong-ki Park's _Things that Happen in the Fast Lane_ is a seminal classic of the thriller genre! Ever since its release eight years ago, it's received awards—”

Saori raised her hand. “What's the difference between a mystery and a thriller?”

“You're intended to solve mysteries beforehand, essentially,” Mai answered, and Saori nodded. “An understandable question. Plenty of people get these two genres confused, but I've had a fascination from an early age.”

“See, I figured she'd wind up a detective or... something,” Kenichiro said, nodding. “You know.”

“Who knows? Life is long and full of twists and turns,” Mai giggled. “Anyhow, it's received awards for its rich storytelling and characterization. The author's sense of wonder at the worlds that only those who live life on the edge can see really comes through, and even as a self-admitted shut-in—”

At Juri and Anzu's unimpressed gazes, Park sputtered and said, “I-I said that eight years ago! I'm—I am a perfectly sociable adult nowadays!”

“—his frenetic passion seemed to come through the page, and made his breakout work a renowned success!” Mai continued. “Actually, one of my favorite directors is directing the movie adaptation soon—”

A squawk came from Park, who had just gone white as a sheet. “M-movie? Movie adaptation?!”

“Yes?” Mai tilted her head.

“I haven't heard of this, where...” Park began looking around, his hands shaking. “Where are my consultations, my... my invitations to test screenings, I...”

“Did you sell the rights away to pay your rent?” Tsukihi asked.

Park froze. “I may have sold the rights away to pay my rent.”

“You seem to be in dire straits” Tsukihi said, raising her eyebrow. “Would you like them back?”

“Well, yes, honestly, I'd-I'd very much like the. The rights back, I...” Park trailed off for a moment, but then revved back up. “I don't want them to ruin anything! It's important! They might make it _too_ gritty, and that's just awful!”

“I'll get you the rights back once we're off this island, then,” Tsukihi said.

Park paused again. “I—how?”

“High-level industry is incredibly incestuous, I'm sure I have something to threaten _someone_ with.” Tsukihi shrugged.

“That's. Er.” Park's eyes were wide as dishpans, as he sat further back into his seat, folding his hands back into his lap. “That's both very kind and incredibly frightening.”

“Is this the power of a self-made woman...?” Juri mumbled.

Anzu rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sure, just go off and casually take a wrecking ball to someone else's life. It's not like they matter, right?”

“Anzu!” Tsukihi chided, but Anzu did not heed her call; she just looked away, scoffing.

Saori raised her hand again. When Tsukihi's gaze fell on her, she said, “I think I put her in a bad mood. I'm sorry.”

“Ehh, it happens.” Minato shrugged. “I guess she's just at that age, huh?”

Bella frowned, crossing her arms. “Are you sure it's just her bein' at an age?”

“I'll tell you what it is, it's annoying!” Kenichiro scoffed. “Geez, kid, just hate your parents in silence like the rest of us.”

“I will have you know I love my daddy _dearly_,” Bella huffed, looking away, puffing her cheeks.

After a moment, Anzu said, “I don't hate my parent_s._”

Staring blankly, though nobody could actually see it, Juri turned her head and asked, “What did you _do_?”

“In all seriousness,” Tsukihi said, “I have absolutely no clue.”

“Of course you don't,” Anzu said, her arms crossed.

“W-well,” Mai started up, looking around, “at least the two of you are talking, right, Itagaki-_san_?”

“I _suppose_,” Tsukihi sighed. If she were feeling more free to move, she would be running her hands through her hair here.

“Seems that's the danger of only having one child,” Zoe said, raising her hand to her mouth to disguise a chuckle. “When they become rebellious, you have no source of your child's love any longer.”

In response, Park let out a heavy sigh. “...I haven't called my parents in a week.”

“I haven't called my dad in about eight years!” Minato laughed. This was so stunningly conversationally appropriate that Wataru turned his head and stared at him like he was crazy.

Tsukihi cleared her throat. “If that's all of that, we should decide on who we're sending where. I'd like to visit that library across the way. Ms. Duke, can I count on you as backup?”

After a moment of remembering that Tsukihi meant her, Bella gave a big thumbs up. “If you say so, Boss Lady!”

“Unless anyone else knows how to wield a gun. Other than you, Mr. Washizu,” Tsukihi said, raising her hand to cut him off. “I don't trust you to wield a firearm.”

Everyone went silent as another hand raised. Anzu's response was a flat “What.”

After all, it was fairly unbelievable that Ryo Kawashima knew how to wield a gun, but here he was, raising his hand nevertheless. He had a look of stoic determination on his face. “The supermarket,” he said, clenching his other fist against his heart.

“He's kidding, right?” Juri looked around frantically at everyone else, her eyes wide enough that people could see her eyebrows from behind her glasses. “He's gotta be kidding.”

“I _want_ to go to the _supermarket_,” Ryo insisted, his eyes pleading with Tsukihi for her permission.

“...Ryo,” Tsukihi said, putting a hand on her forehead and sighing, “you clearly don't have the musculature to properly fire a gun.”

“Gladiolus,” Ryo replied.

Tsukihi visibly racked her brains for a moment, then closed her eyes. “'Strength of character', 'honor', 'conviction'. You're saying I can't stop you.” Ryo nodded.

“That's ridiculous, Ryo!” Mai stood up to chide him. “You can't put yourself in harm's way like that! And—where did you even learn to fire a gun?!”

“You aren't _seriously_ going to let Ryo go there, are you?” Anzu's eyes were wide in disbelief at her still-pondering mother. “Mom, he's, like, twelve, come on. You can't! They have _guns_!”

“He wouldn't be going alone,” Saori said.

“I don't care, he's a kid!” Anzu stood up, too, gesturing at Ryo. “We can't just put him in harm's way!”

“...So it's okay when you do it,” Zoe said, crossing her arms, “but not Ryo?”

“I—” Anzu cut herself off, sputtering. “That's different!”

Wataru turned his head to look at Ryo and asked, “Well, why do you want to go there?”

Ryo paused and looked down, biting his lip. “...I...” He seemed to be pondering what to say, whether to say it at all.

The following exchange would not make any sense whatsoever outside of Japanese, as this is a misunderstanding based on homonyms, but it's also untranslatable without misrepresenting the name of a human being. I will do my best to explain.

First, Ryo said, “Hitori.” 'Hitori' is a Japanese boy's name, and Ryo here used it such, to refer to a person.

“You're not going alone, what the fuck are you talking about?!” Anzu cried. However, this is homonymous with the word 'hitori', which generally refers to a lone person, usable in situations such as describing one who likes their alone time. With Ryo's general terseness due to his difficulty to words, Anzu interpreted his utterance as meaning he intended to go alone.

...I've been told that these sorts of matters are very obnoxious in literal translations of foreign media. Suddenly, I begin to feel the pain of any number of viewers of Western movies. How would I even translate this joke to English, though...?

...Anyway.

“No!” Ryo cried, raising his voice a bit more than was characteristic. “Hitori... Hitori was—is...”

“Eh?” Mai blinked, looking rather baffled as she did.

“...My friend. Could... could be my friend,” Ryo said. “That 'white-haired girl'...”

“Ohh, I see!” Bella pounded her fist into her open palm. “That girl mighta been this friend of yours—Hitori, right?” Ryo nodded. “How old would she be?”

Ryo looked down for a moment, then looked back up to say, “Nineteen.”

“Yeah, no offense, Doc, but that seems more realistic than a ghost of some dead girl,” Zenji snorted.

“I never said I was certain that it was her, you know,” Zoe said, glaring at Zenji, frowning. “I just said—”

“Something up, old dude?” Minato asked. His question was cavalier, but the look on Kenichiro's face was anything but—he looked both baffled and uncharacteristically serious.

“...Ryo,” Kenichiro said, putting his elbow on the table, “you're... not talking about Hitori _Sawamura_, are you?”

Ryo's nod, signaling Kenichiro's correct guess, earned a glare from Tsukihi. “Care to tell us how you know this young woman, Mr. Washizu?”

“Apparently he's got a history of babysitting, maybe it's that.” Juri shrugged.

“I'm sure,” Tsukihi snorted.

“Can you get off my case for a second, lady?” Kenichiro snarled. “Yeah, I... I know the kid. I met her through work.”

“And you said you were... a 'talent scout'?” Park tilted his head.

“That's—look, the point is... I don't think that girl could be Hitori Sawamura,” Kenichiro said. “It's a long story, but I don't think it's possible. _No_,” he said, raising his finger at Minato, “she's not dead.”

“But you'd know her on sight?” Wataru asked.

“Yeah, I would. No way I wouldn't,” Kenichiro said. He scratched his beard. “That kid's unmistakable.”

“So, basically,” Wataru said, turning his head back to Tsukihi and steepling his hands, “Ryo and Kenichiro should both go to the supermarket to see if they've got the right person. I'll go with them, if you're alright with that.”

Tsukihi looked pensive, her brow furrowing. As an executive of something or another, certainly she was used to making tough decisions. Her curiosity regarding this 'Hitori Sawamura' was evident in the gleam in her eye, but on the other hand, Ryo was a child and she clearly did not trust Kenichiro.

I find myself wondering—what would've happened if she'd chosen otherwise? Thinking on it, perhaps this was where fate truly began to turn for me—maybe even for all of us. Moreso than even being kidnapped, in this very instant, the course of over a dozen destinies rode on the unwitting shoulders of Tsukihi Itagaki.

“...Very well,” Tsukihi said. She cocked her head towards Kenichiro. “Wataru, I'll count on you to keep that one in line.”

Saori raised her hand. “I have the map.”

“You could always hand it off to someone,” Zenji said.

“But I like having the map,” Saori said, frowning just a little.

“Well, that's a convincing argument,” Tsukihi said. “Then—”

Kenichiro cut in. “And Mai's coming too. That's five.”

There was an audible, palpable pause as the normally-alert Mai took a few moments to catch up. “E-eh?” She asked, her eyes wide. “What?”

“You're coming to the supermarket with us, duh. C'mon! Keep up!” Kenichiro clapped a few times to wake his wayward charge. “I'm not leaving you with _that_ one—” And he jabbed his finger towards Tsukihi. “She hates me! She might fill your young, impressionable mind with _ideas_.”

Tsukihi's eye twitched. “Do you seriously believe I am the sort of woman who would attempt to sabotage your daughter's opinion of you?”

“No, I just don't want her thinking you're a role model.” Kenichiro grinned a toothy, smarmy grin.

“Wait, why—” Mai began.

The screen above the table rocketed further downwards, hard enough to audibly ram into the table itself and make a worryingly loud cracking sound. It then proceeded to do so four more times. The ever-faithful table remained astonishingly sturdy through it.

The frowning face of Nagisa Ayana, with teeth grittered, uttered a hissed, “Do I have your _attention_ now?”

“Oh no! She's mad!” Phanuel cried, putting its hands over its head. “I swear I was trying to warn you guys!”

“Is _that_ what those charades were?” Zenji raised an eyebrow.

“...Maybe I was at a bad angle for a completely visual cue,” Phanuel said.

“Now, I understand that with your situation, it's natural to want to blather on and on to attempt to relieve stress,” Nagisa said, crossing her arms. “I didn't actually have all that much to say, even, so in the grand scheme of things I suppose you picked a good day for it. Have you considered, though, that it's been over _five minutes_?!” A small snort from Wataru got her to cock her head and swivel the screen in his direction. “Yes?”

“It's just kind of funny, honestly,” Wataru said, with a small smile. “You're going to keep us here for over a month and you're worried about five minutes?”

“Oh, well, then I suppose you wouldn't like to hear about how you can get off the island faster?” Nagisa said.

“Well excuse you, I think we'd like to hear about that quite a bit, actually!” Bella said, waving her hands back and forth rapidly.

“I was originally going to tell you about the process of investigation this morning, but I suppose I can be nice,” Nagisa snorted. “As I said, all thirteen rounds of Sinner Hunter will take three days, with a day in between each round. _However_, there are methods to shorten this duration.”

“One of them is murder, right?” Juri asked, getting Park to jump. “That's what you people do, right?”

“No!” Phanuel yelled.

“Technically, if you're that utilitarian of a person, that _would_ work.” Nagisa shrugged. “I can't hold a round about a person who's dead, after all. I wouldn't recommend it, though—not unless you'd like a hefty sentence for it after you leave.”

“Nagisaaaa...” Phanuel groaned.

“If you'd like to suggest a manner through which I might hold a round for a corpse, Phanuel, please, I'm all ears.” Nagisa's glare quieted Phanuel's moan. “The first _intended_ method is for you to confess your sin yourself. It doesn't have to be your round for this to occur—you may confess at any time. This will remove your round from the list. If you confess during your own round, the round will shift, and another Sinner's poem will be presented for the game, for a continuing investigation in the same three-day time period.”

“So if the Prince confessed now, you'd still have until midnight tomorrow to solve the case of whoever came next,” Phanuel explained.

“I thought I was quite clear, myself,” Nagisa grumbled. “The second method is for the button next to the elevator on the third level to be hit early. This will herald the group together to immediately commence the round's second phase, thus cutting the round short. However, the round's Sinner may not push the button—it must be another. The option for the confident, you could say.”

“...May I address the elephant in the room now?” Park asked.

“Go ahead, Mr. Park,” Nagisa nodded.

“_Why did you hire people to shoot at us_?” Park sputtered, waving his hands around, but being careful not to hit his neighbors still, as he was still a reasonably conscientious man.

“I didn't,” Nagisa said. “That might be within parameters, but I assure you I didn't put them there—”

“Then how the hell did they get there?!” Zenji growled. “Do you know how much I had to work on my ponytail getting rid of those burnt ends?”

Before Nagisa could reply, Minato spoke up, an earnest, wide-eyed curiosity on his face. “So, you didn't put them in there, they just showed up. Right?”

“Er, yes?” Nagisa nodded.

“Ohhh, okay, okay. I think I'm starting to get the picture,” Minato said, crossing his arms and nodding once, twice, three times. “So, random question, you're 'Captain Datura', right?”

There was a moment of silence.

“Wait...” Nagisa trailed off. “What?”

“You're Captain Datura, head of the blogsite _Machina Marinus_,” Minato said. “Right?”

There was another, longer moment of silence. Saori coughed. “You—” Zenji sputtered, trailing off into wordless verbalizations.

“Wow, Nagisa!” Phanuel gasped, its hair flying back in an imaginary wind. “I guess you're getting pretty big!” Nagisa gibbered.

“You follow _our kidnapper's blog_,” said Anzu, her hands wriggling in disbelief.

Minato nodded. “Yup. It's relevant to my interests.”

“You follow her blog?” Zoe asked, and her twitch resurfaced just a little bit. “You follow her _blog_?!”

“It's well-written, concise, and easy to understand.” Minato tilted his head. “Is it really that weird?”

“He becomes yet more baffling with every fact I learn about him,” Park muttered. He was curled into himself, probably attempting to hide an embarrassing look on his face. “He follows our kidnapper's blog. Her—she runs a blog and he follows it.”

As the cloud of disbelief continued to bellow, Wataru spoke up. “Okay. I'll bite. What's her blog about?”

“Computer stuff, mostly,” Minato said, nodding to himself. “Dr. Ayana here is a pioneer in a number of new tech frontiers that I'm pretty interested in myself, though I seem to remember she's a... theeeerapist by trade?”

“Why do you follow my blog?!” Nagisa finally reacted to this information by, though this screen was two-dimensional, still seeming to retract at least a few feet.

“Yeah, yeah, you made that one personal post about the... the weird case you saw, the kid with the, uh, the... dissociated...” Minato muttered to himself and snapped his fingers a few times. “—yeah she's a therapist. Anyway, I can't be sure she doesn't own a private island, but I think I know what's happening here.”

“Is it a good blog?!” Bella hollered.

“Oh yeah, very quality,” Minato said, giving her a coy wink. “Anyway, what's with the white-haired girl, Cap'n?”

“Wha—white-haired girl, wha—” Nagisa Ayana, deadly kidnapper, sputtered and stumbled over her words for a bit. “You can't just—I-I don't—”

Click. On, off. The screen now only had one person. “Wha—w-wait, Nagisa!” Phanuel cried, cartoon sweat drops flying from its head. “You can't just quit like that! Come on!”

...And like that, the day's broadcast was over. The thirteen sinners were left again to their devices. “Just figured I'd try,” Minato said. He shrugged and took a drink of... I don't remember what he was drinking at the time, actually.

Tsukihi slumped into her hands, covering her face. “Good god, this is ridiculous. The least she could do is be a properly imposing kidnapper.” _he's looking at me _“So you have some idea of her plan?”

“Not specifics, no, but I think I've got a decent idea of some parts of it.” Minato nodded. “It's just kinda off the wall, so I figure I should make sure first—”

When they heard a slight snoring sound, it became clear to the group that Saori had fallen asleep in the midst of this conversation. _he's looking at me _“We... should probably wrap this up,” Wataru said. “It's getting harder and harder to have a discussion.”

“Did we really all have to come in at the same time?” Anzu grumbled, pulling on a lock of her hair.

“Perhaps under better circumstances it would be easier, but, ah, ahem, er, well, you know,” Park said, gesticula_this place is killing me stop it. stop talking. stop looking at me i can't handle this anymore no more of this make it stop make it stop let me out of here stop it stop it stop it stop it stop stop stop stop stop looking at me stop stop stop it stop it stop it STOP IT STOP IT **STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT**_

* * *

_With a shuddering gasp, I awaken with my cheek flat against the side of a sturdy, unfamiliar wooden desk. There's sweat coating my whole body, a small puddle of it where I had been flat against this desk. I start up, looking at this desk and this lamp and this writing space, with a dutifully-kept manuscript folder that is not yet nearly full, and noticing too that I have a pen in my hand. I hold my forehead. Heavy, coarse gasps heave themselves out of my lungs, betraying my unease to an invisible audience._

_ This desk sits within a carpeted bedroom, for two, by the size of the bed and from what I can see within both the dresser and the slightly-ajar closet. Two styles of clothing are obviously visible—clothing which I would wear, and clothing which is clearly far too socially acceptably anti-establishment for someone as reserved as myself to even consider putting on. The bed, which looks rather plush, is done up in summer colors, the current bedspread being a gentle, refined red. Atop a nearby nightstand is a photo._

_ I stand up properly and go to look at the photo, uneasy steps faltering from the state of my consciousness until I grab it and give it a look. It contains two people—appearing like women, smiling together—_

_ When I look at the photo, it occurs to me. This is **my** bedroom. These are my clothes. Light filters through the blinds, a cityscape visible in the near distance, not the shore of an island. This photo is of me and... Even as disheveled as I am, I still find the time to look down, embarrassed, and my eye catches sight of the ring on my hand._

_ This photo is of me and my fiancee. How is it still so awkward of me to call her that after we'd been together for years? It's the natural next step of a relationship like this. Why does my chest flutter every time I think of the fact that she might call me just the same way?_

_ Yes, of course. This room is very familiar to me. This is my bedroom, in my house. My cell phone sits on its charging cord. My glasses... sit upon my face, I realize, after a brief moment of panic. _

_ And 'I', 'my', 'me', all of these things refer to the same person as they always do. Me. Yuki._

_ ...Though my surname will be changing once again soon. How many times does this make? I briefly count and come up with my current surname and three I've previously held, so that would make this my fifth._

_ And—_

_ I check in the box beneath the bed. A wooden katana, still well-maintained if I say so myself, looks back up at me. “Ah,” I say, “there you are.” In the same place it always is._

_ Pulling out my phone, I begin to scroll through my contacts. I chuckle to myself as I think about how empty it was back then in comparison. _

_ —Back then._

_ I turn back towards my desk to look at what exactly lay there. Right on the pad where I wrote was a sheet of paper, theoretically intended to continue the previous pages. Instead..._

_ This page was black, dripping with ink. From the point where I had placed my pen down to begin writing the first character, a series of chaotic, scribbled lines and clouds of blackness encroached outwards to cover the entire page. Occasionally, I see, in my own handwriting, scattered short phrases begging an unseen god to 'stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop', littered liberally, with no regard for the margins or proper ordering of text. _

_ ...To give myself some credit, even when dissociating so severely, my handwriting is quite legible._

_ I sit back in my chair and stare down at the annihilated sheet of paper, pondering where exactly I had gone as I'd done this. There was no question, after all, that the culprit was me. If I were to put my pen down to paper again, would I lose myself once more?_

_ Ah, of course. I want to hear someone's voice._

_ She picks up after two rings. “You're lucky I can pick up right now,” she says. “What's up?”_

_ “I had a breakdown and wrecked a sheet of paper,” I say. “I was a bit disturbed, so I felt I should call you.”_

_ There's a pause and a sigh. “Babe. Put down the pen and go do something else for a bit.”_

_ “Are you sure?” I say. I know very well that that's what I wanted her to tell me to do, but I'm trained as a contrarian._

_ “Yes, I'm sure.” I can hear her rolling her eyes from here. “...You know you don't have to **do** this, right?”_

_ After a moment's consideration, I sigh. “No, I do have to. These are important memories for me, I don't want to lose them—”_

_ “You're working through this by writing all of it down to prove to yourself you have the courage to face it, and yourself,” she says. “I know.”_

_ I blink, and then a moment later, I sputter. “W-wait, how did you know the exact words I was going to use?”_

_ “How do you think?” she asks._

_ “...Is—is it psychic powers?” I stammer out._

_ “It's because you've given me this whole spiel six times already,” she responds. “They aren't going anywhere, Yuki. Give yourself a break.”_

_ “...Right,” I say, nodding. “Right, of course. Thanks. I—I think I will. Do that, I mean.”_

_ “...How's it going, anyway?” Of course she'd get curious. “That's a pretty big stack.”_

_ “Ah, well, it's the morning of the second day now,” I say. “Minato just talked about Nagisa's blog, and they're off to go look at the library and the car—”_

_ The shout comes as soon as she understands. “How fucking wordy are you that you can write that much and still only be that far?!”_

_ “S-shut up,” I whine, “it's important.”_

_ “You know you don't have to write down every single conversation that happened, right? You can just leave most of it out if it's not important—”_

_ “This **is** important!” I cry out once again. “It's all important. Everything... everything I'm writing is important.”_

_ There's a long pause as she considers. I inwardly apologize for being complicated again, as we've gotten past the point where I feel the need to say that out loud—she knows._

_ “Are you scared of writing about her?” she asks, and I nod, with a small 'mmhm' so she can hear me. “That part was really hard for you, right?” Again. “Hey... Yuki.”_

_ “Yes?” _

_ “Maybe this is me being an asshole, but have you considered... closing the distance a bit? That's why you're doing this, right?” There's a concern in her voice that some part of me is always glad to be the recipient of. I'm something of a selfish person that way—I like hearing her worried about me in a way she isn't often worried about other people._

_ That aside, though... my hand trembles on the phone as I take in her words. I know she's right. I'd started to try and ease myself into it, but..._

_ “...You're right. I'll... give it a shot,” I say. The sweat is coming back, but I can't let my fear hold me down. That would make this whole thing pointless._

_ “Take it easy for the day once I get home, alright?” she says, and I nod, with another small 'mmhm'. “I don't want to see you passed out on the floor or anything.”_

_ “Right. Thanks. S—” Ah, caught myself. I awkwardly fist-pump. “—see you then. Love you.”_

_ “Good work, there,” she snorts. Damn, I really am that obvious. “Love you, too—hey, **asshole**, I'm walking here! You have something to say?! You wanna make this a problem, dickweed?! I—”_

_ I hang up before she realizes she hasn't hung up yet, to save her the embarrassment, and turn back to the desk._

_ And I take up my pen. Let's try this._

I

_Alright, that works, that's simple._

I sat in my chair

_...Just breathe. You can do this. I can do this._

Once the original disbelief faded, Zoe began to take umbrage with Tsukihi's decision, as did Anzu, and Zenji. Soon, the room became unbelievably noisy with arguments and movement. Ryo was the first to flee, and pained as he looked, he also had a sort of determination on his face.

Let me explain to you how, in the next instant, the world looked to me.

Zenji had just stood up, a vein throbbing in his left temple, a different one in his clutched right hand, as he bent over to begin placing his hands on the table to yell. A small injury to his left leg caused it to buckle near-unnoticeably. On the other side of the table, Tsukihi, whose right eyebrow twitched slightly upward, curled her middle and right fingers on her left hand around her right sleeve, her leg moving slightly to indicate she was unconsciously tapping her foot at a rate of roughly two taps a second. The snarl on Anzu's face as she shouted, with her arms and legs crossed, was severe enough that I had a full view of her teeth, and her leg, too, was moving as if to tap her foot, albeit slower, and on the opposite side of her body. Mr. Park's eyebrow began jittering as he attempted to play peacemaker, throwing his arms wide and forcing a gregarious look onto his face—even though the movement of his brows and a brief wince told me he was dealing with something of a headache. Bella seemed more up to it, placing both of her hands on her heart as she tried to calm down the argument, looking pleadingly towards Kenichiro, whose face was still scrunched up in confusion, his fingers bent against his legs. His nostrils flared. Minato tapped his left temple with his index finger before spinning his chair around and leaning back in it—

—and the next thing I knew, the next thing I truly registered, I was in a hallway on the other side of the first floor, panting, sweat coating my brow.

“Hey,” someone said, “you're breathing?”

I'd have recognized the voice in a better state, but I had to turn to see Wataru to realize it was him. “Oh, Wataru-_san_.”

“You,” Wataru said, handing me a glass of water, “looked like hell warmed over in there.”

“I wasn't doing very well, no,” I admitted, sidling my eyes away. “You're surprisingly perceptive.”

Wataru shrugged. “It's a recent skill.”

“Ah,” I said. I hadn't yet obtained much of an impression of the man aside from understanding that his movements were reasonably understated, which I supposed befit a man who spent most of his time letting a high-horsepower machine cart him about places. I admittedly knew very little, but it seemed to me like being able to stand still and firm against massive g-forces was a trait that would be quite necessary. “Well, thank you, sir.”

“To be fair, I hated it in there, too,” Wataru said, with a grimace. “Hey, before we go, I've got a question.”

“For me?” I asked, and he nodded. “Yes?”

“You can tell me if I'm full of it, but I feel like you know more than you're letting on,” Wataru said, crossing his arms, leaning against the wall. The two of us didn't look at each other—we stared at the wall on the other end. “Do you know who this Prince is?”

I briefly pondered. “I have a theory I'm fairly confident in,” I said.

“Are you going to go hit the button and tell us, then?” Wataru asked, and I shook my head. “Why?”

The previous reasoning I gave was not untrue, and neither was this reasoning. “I don't want to tear the truth out so quickly,” I said. “I want to give the Prince the chance to come to terms with it, and try to prepare themself, at least, if not confess.”

Wataru took a drink of something or another. Oh, wait—coffee. Red bean coffee. I'd have to remember he liked that. “Huh,” he said. “That's noble.”

At that, I couldn't help but chuckle. “No, I'm... I'm nothing of the sort.” I stared listlessly into the remains of my water. “To be honest... I'm a very cruel girl, I think.”

“But is that kind cruelty, or cruel kindness?” Wataru asked, and I made a noise to urge him to explain. “Well, to some people, doing something kind can be crueler than leaving them alone.”

“Such as?” I asked.

“Saving the life of someone who wants to die, maybe?” Wataru shrugged. “And, maybe exposing someone's secret is bad for them now, but it's good in the long run even if it's a cruel act.” He waved his hand as if to shoo the thought away. “Don't mind me. Just thinking aloud. Hypotheticals, you know.”

“It's a reasonable thought,” I said. “You might be right.” I then let out a rueful chuckle. “I'm a child, so I suppose it's normal not to have considered these things yet.”

“You're a complicated kid, huh?” Wataru asked, and at that, I couldn't help myself—I let out a loud laugh. “I know that feeling.”

I noticed out of my peripheral vision that he'd left the wall and turned to me, so I responded in kind, and was surprised to find his hand outstretched to me. “Eh?”

“Seems like we'll be working together on this whole investigation thing,” Wataru said, “so I figure we should start it off right.”

“I'm still not completely sure people should trust me so much...” I trailed off, blushing.

Wataru shrugged, and gave a kind smile. “Same here, but who needs more arguments? Things'll get along better if we get along, so we should work together to give them something to trust in, right?”

—At that, I remembered the words of someone I trusted very much, someone I looked up to. “People look to entertainers so they can smile. People will get lost on their own, so an entertainer needs to guide them and show them that the world isn't so scary.” Wataru, after a fashion, was an athlete of some sort, and a personality of his industry, and so that instant I thought that maybe he knew that, too.

I thought, then, that maybe Wataru Nishikiyama was a good man after all. Some part of me sardonically thought that it was a shame he wasn't a woman, but then I realized that that was an absolutely absurd (and also rather rude) thought, and tried to pretend very hard that I had not thought it.

...Of course, I betrayed nothing of this on my face, which switched from uncertainty to a resolute smile to answer Wataru's. I extended my hand and grabbed his. “Alright,” I said. “I'm glad to work with you, Wataru-_san_.”

“You too, Mai,” Wataru said.

* * *

...Would an explanation I gave _now_ even be sufficient? I find myself mumbling in thought as to how to broach the subject to the written word. As I am a complicated person who has lived a complicated life, I would need many complicated words to refer to myself, at this moment, in terms complicated enough to not be so blunt they frighten me.

Mm, no. What's most important now is continuing. So, for the time being, with my assurance that it will make sense later, understand that the person who has been calling themself Mai Orihara here, on this island, is in fact me, Yuki, the person writing this record.

At this point, I kept to myself to regain my composure until the exploration party for the supermarket was ready to head out, as I was still rather frazzled despite Wataru's admirable attempt at steadying me. My understanding of the plan was that Wataru offered to, _somehow_, cram himself and the library party in the jeep and drop them off. How six people were meant to get in there, I have no idea, and frankly, still do not know, especially as Ryo was not one of them.

...Wait. Alright. So, Bella, Tsukihi, Mr. Park, Minato, and Juri headed to the library, leaving behind Anzu, Zenji, and Zoe at the manor because Zoe's very particular character was an effective counter to Zenji's twelve-year-old nature. Wataru would be driving, and most likely Tsukihi would be riding in the front, so Bella, Park, Minato, and Juri all in the back there? Juri and Minato were not large individuals, but Park was fairly large, and Bella, as an almost insultingly curvaceous example of American breeding, was no slouch in the size department either. Perhaps if Park was on one end and Bella was on the other... no, Juri might be a rail but she and Minato are still too large for that to work. I—

No, I've just realized! I've figured it out! It's Minato we're talking about, so he likely volunteered to ride in the space beneath the seats! If the three others sat cross-legged, then he would have enough space to fit! How have I never thought of this? And why—why am I suddenly so_ proud _of myself?

Anyway, I kept to myself, and it's my understanding that nothing particularly noteworthy occurred outside of my sight before the jeep returned. At some point, I spoke with Kenichiro for a while before finding Ryo and Saori outside the mansion, playing patty-cake as they waited. “Hi,” Saori said.

“Enjoying ourselves, I see,” Kenichiro said, giving a faux-stern nod.

“Apparently he's never done this before,” Saori said. Ryo nodded his affirmation.

“Did you have a good nap, Saori-_san_?” I asked, and she responded with a small nod and a smile. “I'm glad. Being in college seems hard.”

“Mm, maybe,” Saori said. (It's worth noting that they flawlessly kept up the game as this was going on.) “Might just be me.”

“Being in college is both a bastard and way less difficult than your teachers in mandatory school taught you,” Kenichiro said. He held up a finger and closed his eyes for the sake of appearing more dignified. “On the one hand, shit's hard, but on the other hand sometimes you get your professor tweaking on some ridiculous crap and saying he'll teach until all his students look like crabs.”

“Are you a tasty crab?” Saori asked.

“I'm delicious,” Kenichiro smirked. “Raw, unadulterated tastiness in a middle-aged crab form, hard to crack open and all but the juices are delicious. Serve with scallops and some nice cheesy bread? Yow, that's the good shit.”

“Mai is white like a scallop,” Saori pointed out.

I blushed once I registered the implication. “P-please don't eat me! I would rather not die in such an undignified manner!”

“I always figured you'd die of fright from a scary movie,” Kenichiro said, ruffling my hair.

“Ken-_ichi_-rooooo!” I cried, grabbing his arm and taking it off of my head as I frowned sternly at my gadfly of a caretaker. “How cowardly do you think I am?”

“So, he's 'Kenichiro', huh?”

I'd noticed Anzu leaning on one of the nearby windowsills before then, but she hadn't said anything, so it seemed like she'd wanted to remain unseen until then. “Eh?” I asked.

Anzu's arms were crossed, leaning against the wall in an astonishingly 'bad girl' pose. Her gaze was levied on me. “He's 'Kenichiro'.”

“Well, she did try to give me the runaround with a 'Washizu-_san_',” Kenichiro chuckled. I sputtered.

...Despite that, though—the tension in Anzu's muscles had not escaped me. “...Anzu?” Ryo muttered.

“I see,” Anzu said. “So you call him 'Kenichiro' because you're comfortable with him already, right? Because you already know him?”

“...Yes. Is that not normal?” I asked, my hand briefly twitching down before I remembered yet again that I still didn't have my sword. That always sent a chill down my spine, longer and colder each successive time.

“Just checking,” Anzu said. “Was she always like this, old man?”

“Always like...?” Kenichiro was a bit on edge too, now, his brow furrowing and his lips beginning to crease into a frown.

In response, Anzu said nothing; she shrugged, and began turning to walk away, raising one hand in farewell. Before she left completely, though, she stopped and said, “I was just thinking. It seems like we're pretty alike.”

“Ohhhh,” Saori said, her eyes going wide with recognition. “She's hitting on you.”

“Wha—” Anzu loudly sputtered, her stride completely broken. She swiveled around, her face cartoonishly widening. “I'm not _hitting_ on her!”

“I hope someone says cryptic things to me, hits on me, and walks away all cool some day,” Saori added. “That seems really nice.” Ryo was giggling.

Anzu's blush reddened by the second. “I am _not hitting on her_. How could you get that from anything I was just doing?!”

“Yeah, actually, you were totally hitting on her,” Kenichiro nodded seriously. When you were quiet enough, you could also hear Zenji, who was watching from a seat by the window, cackling at Anzu's expense.

In a stroke of incredibly good luck, the sound of an approaching jeep meant that Wataru was back and ready to escort me out of a situation where an attractive woman was either hitting on me or being vaguely threatening toward me. I was likely also beet-red by this point, and quick as I could, spun around to hail him. “Wataru-_saaan_!”

Once the group's attention was caught, I heard Anzu beat feet out of the area and breathed an inward sigh of relief. Wataru hailed back and stopped the jeep in front of the manor. He waved. “Alright, you guys ready?”

Ryo's face turned to that look of determination again, and he nodded. “Mm.”

Kenichiro self-aggrandizingly shoved himself into the passenger seat, saying something about kids going in the back, so I wound up in the middle of the back seat between Ryo and Saori.

—And we were off. “So, we've got the car to check out and whatever we can do safely in the supermarket,” Kenichiro said. He crossed his arms. “And—”

“Seeing if we can find that white-haired girl.” Wataru nodded. “What's your friend Hitori like, Ryo?”

Ryo pondered for a few moments. “Hitori... cyclamen, cyclamen...”

“Cyclamen,” I said. This one, I knew, luckily enough. “Essentially, diffident—modest and/or shy from a lack of self-confidence.”

“Crinum?” Ryo muttered, turning his head to me.

“A number of meanings, such as a delicate beauty—” Ryo nodded. “—tenderness—” Again. “—weakness—” Ryo nodded more sadly this time. “—but also, a proud spirit.” That made Ryo a bit more cheerful to nod about.

“Black poplar!” Ryo called out, smiling.

“Courage,” I answered, smiling back.

“So, weak and kind of a wallflower from a lack of self-confidence,” Wataru said, “but with a strong, brave heart that's good at being gentle?”

“Yes!” Ryo smiled, his eyes closing as he clapped his hands together.

“And she has white hair and red eyes,” Wataru said, and Ryo made a noise of affirmation. “I see. She sounds like a nice girl.”

“Ugh, _barf_,” Kenichiro said. Wataru reached over and punched him lightly in the arm. “Hey!”

“Be nice,” Wataru said, raising a finger to chide him. “Just because Mai lets you be tsundere to her doesn't mean it's okay to be that way to everyone her age.”

I giggled. “He's got you there, Kenichiro.”

“Grumble grumble,” Kenichiro said, huffing and shrinking a few inches as he curled into himself to harrumph into his seat. “I'm thirty years older than you! You can't chide me!”

“Why not?” Wataru asked.

Kenichiro paused, stopped, and looked away out the window, muttering to himself, “Damn, he's _really_ got me there...”

Ryo laughed brightly, putting a hand up to his mouth as he did to demurely cover himself. Had... had he picked that up from me? I thought.

“When do men become tsundere?” Saori asked. “You're not tsundere, Wataru.”

“Well...” Wataru thought for a moment. “Sometimes, some people just have trouble expressing their feelings.”

“You don't,” Saori said. “Seem to,” she added.

“I learned my lesson and I got better at it,” Wataru said, his gaze looking out the window for just a moment.

“Okay,” Saori said, and that was that.

* * *

Once we arrived at the Kansai Super, Wataru parked (with less regard for the parking zones than Zoe), and the five of us dismounted the jeep. “Be careful,” Saori said, looking over at the supermarket itself.

—The lot itself was deserted, no assailants or white-haired girls to be found. Finding our target, the red car, was not particularly hard, as it stood out even without the skid marks beneath it. “Alright,” Kenichiro said, grinning, “looks like it's time for the Kenster to shine.” He chuckled loudly enough to move his shoulders.

Wataru turned his head to me with a quizzical look, and I said, “Kenichiro has always been very proud of his ability to break locks.”

“Huh,” Wataru said. “He doesn't look the type.”

“Sit back and amaze as the dignified, magnanimous Kenichiro Washizu progresses the investigation through his unbridled skill!” Kenichiro laughed loudly, crossing his arms, before dramatically stepping towards the driver's side door of the car. “I—”

The passenger's side door opened as Saori said, “It's unlocked.”

“_What_?!” Kenichiro whined, throwing his arms wide. “Oh, come on!”

“...Unlocked?” I pondered, rubbing my hand under my chin. “That's curious.”

“Well, we do need to get in here to investigate, right?” Wataru asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, it's not just that,” I said. “This is supposed to be a replica, right? So, this car _was_ here, in this state, when the incident occurred—meaning that whoever was in this car not only drove in an incredible hurry, they also didn't think to lock their door afterwards in a public parking lot.” I looked downward to check the car's license plate. “A Kansai native car,” I said, “not foreign.”

Kenichiro called from the front. “Keys are in the ignition, so I could pop open the trunk. I—” He paused. “...huh.”

I headed to his side to see what he'd found, and looked over his burly shoulder to find he was inspecting the glovebox, holding what looked to be... a high school student's ID, albeit blacked out to keep its owner's identity secret. “Oh, that's a good find, Kenichiro!” I said.

“Why is it blacked out?” asked Saori, leaning in from the other side of the car.

“My guess would be that it belongs to the car's owner,” I said. “This certainly isn't Shinoe-_san_'s. She would have already long graduated high school. And if it were anyone else's, I would see no reason for their identity to be blocked from us.”

“So you're saying this is the Prince's car?” Wataru asked from behind me.

“If not, then it would be one with good reason to contain the Prince's student ID in the glovebox, I would think,” I said. Looking at the glovebox's contents, in fact, it seemed to also contain a number of small studying texts, as well as a collection of well-kept CDs of some sort.

Ryo, on the other side, grabbed Saori's sleeve, and directed her gaze to below the passenger seat. Saori reached down to grab what Ryo had seen, and brought up two connected slips of paper—one yellow, one blue, with small-point text on them each. “...I don't know what this is,” Saori said. By sight, I didn't, either, so I waited for someone else to speak.

“Oh, come on,” Kenichiro snorted. “It's a speeding ticket. Can you not drive, kid?”

“I'm legally not allowed to drive an automobile because I would be a danger to myself and others,” Saori answered, very matter-of-factly.

“Er, I also can't drive,” I admitted. “I've never needed to.”

“Shockingly, I can.” Wataru smiled, and I laughed a little. “Blue tickets aren't necessarily for speeding, but that's most common.”

“Yeahhh, I've gotten a fair number of the little bastards,” Kenichiro said, rubbing the back of his head.

“I've only ever gotten one,” Wataru said. “I tend to go fast in controlled environments.”

“Well, aren't you responsible,” Kenichiro snorted, turning to toothily grin at Wataru. “Really a man for a new millennium, aren't you.”

“It says this ticket was assigned for speeding,” Saori reported. “The speeder's name isn't here, but they were speeding...” She squinted. “28 kilometers over the limit.”

Kenichiro whistled. “That's pretty fast. Blue tickets go up to 30.”

“Well, the thing screeched in here hard enough to leave skid marks,” Wataru said, “so they must've been in a _real_ big hurry.”

I thought to myself for a moment, and then turned to look at the backseat. There was a box in the back with more CDs sitting on one side of the backseat, and the other had a few errant sheets of homework on it. “I see,” I mumbled.

“What's up?” Wataru asked.

“Saori, there were multiple assailants, yes?” I asked, and Saori nodded, holding up four fingers. “At least four people, then. They certainly weren't _all_ riding in this car, if the Prince was one of them. The back seat seems unoccupied.”

“So...?” Kenichiro muttered.

“Well—” I started upon a sudden realization. “Oh, Saori_-san_! When was the ticket issued?”

“September 12, 2036,” Saori answered. “And it looks fresh, I think.”

“In that case, it seems that six years ago, the owner of this car, a high school student, after receiving a fairly severe speeding ticket, drove into this parking lot at still-high speeds. I don't believe anyone would just leave a traffic ticket in their car for very long, after all,” I said, though that was admittedly an assumption. “They were most likely alone in the car, given its state, and as this appears to be the only car out of place, I don't believe that this car would be one of multiple used to transport the assailants, therefore the armed robbery itself would most likely not be the Prince's sin—”

—Then. There was a sound. A yelp.

—And then. Ryo gasped. And he began to run.

“Eh?” I said. Wataru was faster, with a, “Hold on!” as he began to run after Ryo. The two of them appeared to be going towards one side of the supermarket, the side currently not facing the sun.

“Maybe it's that girl,” Kenichiro said. He cocked his head to me and said, “Go,” nudging me out of the car with his arm. “C'mon, we've got this.” Saori gave me a light smile.

Wordlessly, I began to amble myself into a run. Whatever it was Ryo and Wataru had run after, I had no reason to be afraid. After all—

—it was certainly impossible that here, on this island, in front of us, could be an 'object' called 'Hitori Sawamura'—

—and it was impossible that here, on this island, in front of us, could be an 'object' that was ever called 'Hitori Sawamura'—

—and yet in front of me, as Wataru opened a window on the dark side of the supermarket and yanked_ someone_ out of the window, someone with white hair fluttering—

—an 'object' was certainly called 'Hitori Sawamura'—

“H-Hitori!” Ryo cried, trying to help Ryo catch the white-haired girl as Wataru pulled her out of the window.

No, that was not an 'object'. With 100% certainty, the object Wataru helped to the ground, with her feet unfortunately bare, was a 'human being'. “Hitori, Hitori!” Ryo cried again.

“Oh, thank goodness...” the white-haired girl panted. “Thank you so much! Once I entered, I wasn't sure how to leave again...”

“I'm just glad you're alright,” Wataru said.

The girl looked awfully vacant for a moment before her eyes left Wataru and settled on Ryo. “Eh...?” She trailed off, looking down at the young boy before her. “Eh? R-Ryo...?”

“Hitori!” Ryo's eyes were closed, and he launched forward into a hug, tackling his old friend around the waist. “It's you!”

“Eh?! Ryo?!” After a moment to catch up to reality, the girl reacted with a great, deep gasp. “W-what are you doing here? You shouldn't—oh, but you've gotten a bit taller, haven't you?” She seemed to be a bit distracted as she noted his increase in height.

—I knew well the appearance of the woman Ryo called 'Hitori Sawamura'. I knew her long, white hair, her red eyes, her ethereally light skin. Her sundress carried a number of dirt stains.

Letting out another heavy breath, the girl said, “Oh, I feel like I've aged ten years since last night...” She was visibly sweating. “I didn't know where I was to _begin_ with, and then I was stuck in there, with those people...” She ran her fingers through her hair. “And I—oh, dear... um, where _are_ we? I'm without—”

Wordlessly, I walked up, and from a purse I kept under my dress, produced a pair of spare glasses to place on her head. The thin, waifish young woman seemed briefly confused, but then said, “Oh, but these are my glasses!” She looked around, her eyes leaving me before she could get a proper look. “Is—is that the _ocean_? And—oh, Ryo, look at how manly you've gotten!”

Ryo awkwardly chuckled, and curled into himself. “Oh, I... I haven't...”

“Thank you so much for saving me, sir,” the girl said, bowing to Wataru. “Um, are we safe here?”

“I'm pretty sure they can't actually leave the supermarket,” Wataru said, nodding, “so yeah. Hitori, right? Nice to meet you.”

“Er, um...” The girl awkwardly twiddled her index fingers together and blushed. “N-not anymore, actually... I—”

It was _certainly impossible_ that _this woman_ could be here on this island. Wasn't it? Weren't there only supposed to be _thirteen_?

—And yet.

“My name is Mai Orihara, sir,” Mai said, bowing her head. “I'm sorry to trouble you, but do you know where we are?”

It took a moment for Wataru to actually respond, as his eyes visibly moved around in multiple directions trying to process the statement that had just escaped Mai's mouth. Ryo, too, looked confused, but Wataru was more the focus of conversation. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, his leg starting to tense up awkwardly around the third time his gaze returned to Mai. Mai, for her part, stood awkwardly awaiting his response.

“What?” Wataru asked. Then he looked at me. “What?”

I stood stock still as Mai finally had digested her surroundings enough to take a proper look at me. And, as though it was a video replay of my own thoughts, she made the exact sigh of relief I expected, and ran towards me to grab my hand, dumbly waiting at its side. “Yamada_-san_!” she cried, her eyes sparkling. “Oh, thank goodness... er.” she stopped, tilting her head to look at me. “Are you alright? You haven't moved... oh! Thank you for bringing my glasses!”

“What,” I finally found the strength to mutter.

“What?” Wataru agreed, though in a different sense than my 'what'.

“What?” That, from Mai, was a third sort of 'what'.

“Um, huh?” Then Ryo had the gall to break the chain. Some part of my brain thought, how dare he, at a time like this, really. Can't he see I'm stunned into disbelief?

“...Where did you get that dress...?” I mumbled.

“Eh?” Mai blinked, and looked down. “O-oh, this? I, er... I had it on when I woke up yesterday? I'm not sure.”

“I didn't buy that,” I muttered.

“You definitely did not buy this,” Mai agreed. “I—” Then she realized what I was wearing and turned bright red. “Oh, no, oh goodness, are we in _public_?”

“A sort of public,” I said.

“What?” Wataru asked again. “Wait...” Then he paused for several seconds, his face scrunching up, before uttering one last, louder “_What?_”

“M-maybe I should go back inside the supermarket,” Mai squeaked, before edging slightly closer to the window. Only Ryo's hand on her arm prevented her from making a full egress, I'm sure.

“P-please, um... s-sainfoin?” Ryo squeaked.

As Mai was cowed by Ryo's plea, she then looked down to my hips. “Yamada-_san_, er... where's your sword?”

Something went 'creak' inside my brain, and then loudly snapped as I took a deep breath in and yelled, “_That's what I'd like to know!_”


	10. Welcome to Sinner Hunter, 6a ~ A Way Out

“No,” I said. At Mai, Wataru, and Ryo's stares, I repeated, “No,” a bit more loudly—no, well, actually, their stares were more coincidental. “This... shouldn't be...”

I began pacing in circles relative to where I stood, being careful not to encroach upon the others' personal space. “This shouldn't be happening. Why is this happening? I've been kidnapped and trapped on an island with a bunch of people I don't know and a few I do and I'm not sure which end of that equation is _more_ awkward, said island has a non-zero number of people who can and will _shoot me_ with _guns_ if I am not careful, _and_ I've been trapped in some kind of game about peoples' dark secrets that makes me feel extremely awkward about being pretty sure I know the answer already, _and_ I _don't_ have my _sword_, and _**now**_—!”

Spinning on my heel, I thrust my arms out towards Mai, having worked myself up into a sweat and a bit of hyperventilation. “Now!” I squeaked. “Now, Mai is here. I was just thinking to myself—what would actually make this situation worse? It is this! This is making this situation worse! Shit. Shit, shit, shit,” I said, returning to muttering under my breath. I grabbed at one side of my face with my left hand, clutching one of my glasses uncomfortably close to my eye.

Wataru, with as cool a head ever, turned his head to Mai and asked, “So... you're Mai Orihara, right?”

“Yes, sir,” Mai answered, nodding, her eyes wide.

“Do you know the name Kenichiro Washizu?” Wataru asked.

“I don't know the man _personally_,” Mai said, “but Yuki speaks quite highly of him—”

“I'll be right back,” Wataru said, immediately launching into a run past me.

Despite my flustered state, I was keenly aware that Ryo was frowning at me more deeply than I, honestly, thought he could. “..._Rude_,” he said.

“Rude? What?” I muttered. “I—I, uh—”

“Oh!” Mai clapped, and bent down to Ryo. “Oh, no, please don't think so. Yamada-_san_ actually cares very strongly about me—they mean that they want to protect me, it's not as though they find my presence disdainful. They're afraid for my life, I think.”

“Rude,” Ryo grumbled. Then he paused, his expression softening, growing more quizzical, as he looked at me. “...Mm?” He turned to look at Mai, but didn't seem quite sure how to phrase whatever it was he was considering. For her part, she just tilted her head, unsure of how to respond to a question that was not asked.

“_Aaaaaaahhhhhh_,” I groaned, gritting my teeth, my eyes beginning to tear up, repeatedly clenching my hands. I started running my fingers through my hair, pushing it up. “No. This isn't happening, this isn't happening.”

I began inwardly cursing myself out for not being able to internalize this panic. Usually, I was perfectly able to scream inwardly and put on another face to keep from becoming a bother. Surely Ryo was bothered by this. Surely Wataru and Kenichiro and Saori would also be very bothered by this. Argh, damn me.

Then I began to argue with myself. Say, Yuki. Isn't it better to allow yourself to be assisted? Being openly vulnerable for a moment allows people to assist you properly, because they know you're having problems. It seems like this might make things easier for you in the long run.

Oh my god, shut up! I said to myself. That's rude and manipulative! That's not the kind of person I am! I'm a good person, so I should deal with these feelings by myself! I have yet to even have a proper one-on-one _conversation_ with Saori and surely she's going to be over here in a second! She seems like someone who is very easy to take advantage of on account of seeming rather kind and trusting, she should know better than to offer unpaid emotional labor to strange teenagers she doesn't know!

Quit being so chatty, it's improper, I said to myself. _Proper_ ladies do not needlessly chatter. I immediately halted in physical space, attempting to steady my own breath and stop muttering to myself. I always had to remember, after all, that as one who lacked the birthright of—

_Gah! Wait! No! Bad!_ I began to chide myself, and I wasn't entirely certain if that was out loud or not. I began pacing again, the people around me seeming like blurs of bodily tics and facial expressions that didn't linearly tie together to form humans. There was something intangible that created a human, all of these body parts and faces and whatnot tied together by a 'soul' that made the things in front of me people. Nobody else seemed to know what I meant by that, though.

It was only when I noticed that one of those clouds had a particularly glaring shade of red on his obnoxious shirt that I realized that one Kenichiro Washizu had skidded to a stop over by me. His arms were on me, actually, and he was doing his very best to comfort me while also visibly baffled by Mai's presence.

“Kenichiro,” I gasped. I had no idea how long this sequence of events had been occurring, but I would be lying if I said that the fresh realization of his presence did not comfort me at least a little—though it also redoubled the teariness and got me to cry properly.

“Hey, it's cool, it's cool,” Kenichiro said, patting me on the back. “I'm here.”

“_Why is Mai here_,” I asked him.

“I have no idea,” Kenichiro answered, “and honestly I'm pretty damn confused myself.”

“Okay, I'm glad it's not just me,” I said, continuing to sob.

My understanding of events is that Wataru returned with Kenichiro and Saori at some point into my attack, which might have been twenty seconds and might have been a millennium for all I knew, and as the other four stood, staring in various manners at me being comforted by my father figure, Saori said, “Huh,” and then continued with, “This is very awkward and confusing.”

I then understand that Wataru clapped his hands and said, “Okay, executive decision. Back to the manor.”

“Are you certain, er—?” Mai asked.

“Wataru,” Wataru said, “and yeah, we're gonna have to explain whatever this is twice anyhow, might as well not make it three times. Plus, uh,” and he gestured to me, clearly in no state to continue investigating anything at all other than my own palms and Kenichiro's hairy chest.

I have very little cognizance of the ride back, as a result of my delicate mental state—wait a second, there would've been six people in the jeep, wouldn't there? How did they fit me and Mai in there both? Did they lay me on Kenichiro's lap in the front seat...?

...I'll think about it later. Anyhow, we got back, eventually, after a period of time that happened. I remember being half stood up, half carried, inside, and I think Anzu yelped or something? The next concrete sensation I remember in all of this is being laid down on a chest again—though this one was rather softer, and more pleasant, than Kenichiro's. I felt a hand on my head, rubbing my hair gently.

“It's alright, Yuki,” I heard. “It's alright. You're safe here. You're among friends.” I nuzzled closer inward, attempting to grasp a bit more of that comfort. I let out a pained moan, and got back a, “It's alright to be scared, but you're not in any danger.”

The warmth I felt had an immediate calming effect, my fear and panic melting into sleepiness, then, once I remembered it was still daytime, into clarity slowly trickling into my consciousness, bringing with it the understanding that time existed as a concept, that I was a human being who observably existed, and other such sensations that seemingly ceased to exist when I felt my soul violently leaving my body from distress.

I then realized that this chest I was on was unfamiliar to me, as were these hands kindly holding me. Saori? No, her breasts weren't this size. When I reached up to push my glasses into position, I realized that my face was pressed against a texture that seemed less like a shirt and more like an... apron.

Only one person wore an apron around here, so I was able to mute my surprise when I lifted my head to see Dr. Zoe Kitachi. “Are you doing alright now?” Zoe asked, her hands on my shoulders, a gentle smile on her face.

“Dr. Kitachi,” I murmured. “Wha—”

Scene. Suddenly, I was present in the dining room. Around the table were Kenichiro, Wataru, Ryo, Saori, Anzu, and Zenji—and out of my right ear I could hear some noises coming from the small kitchen.

“Yamada-_san_!” Mai called. “I'm putting on some tea for you.”

“Huh,” I blankly murmured. “You're not... the one who does kitchen stuff.”

That was a giggle I'd just gotten back. “But I'm not so incompetent I can't make tea,” Mai responded.

“Wait, you _cook_?” Kenichiro turned his head to look at me and raise his eyebrow.

...Hmph, I thought. The old man is challenging me. “What on earth gave you the impression I couldn't?” I said, pushing my glasses up on my nose in a much more dignified gesture. “Would you _like_ something sometime? I'd be happy to make you something.”

Kenichiro blinked, and then said, “Yeah, you're alright now.”

“Okay, cool, you know, that's great,” Zenji said, nodding his head with a big ol' smile on his face. He gave a thumbs up. “That's cool. Yeah, hundred percent. I'm happy. Hey, _what the fuck just happened_?!”

Saori raised her hand. “I would like to know that, too.”

“You were there!” Zenji retorted, one hand gripping the table.

“I know,” Saori said, nodding. “I still don't know.”

“Okay, yeah, uh,” Anzu said, looking away, “if this is about what I said—”

“It's not,” I said, my eyes widening, shaking my head. “It really isn't, don't worry about it.”

“Cool,” Anzu said, giving me an unsteady thumbs up.

Then, with a little “Yoisho!”, tea was served. Knowing these people, I would imagine Saori obtained something with caffeine, Zenji got something very bitter, Wataru had something citrus-flavored, Ryo got, of course, something more floral, Zoe obtained a very particular sort of white tea that I'm _still_ not entirely sure how to make, and Kenichiro got water because of a claim of his that tea had killed his father or something.

Mai and I shared a taste for rooibos, ourselves. “If I may have a moment?” Mai asked. “Wataru-_san_, Kenichiro-_san_, and Ryo, I know, and you're...” She looked at Zoe. “Kitachi-_sensei_?”

For some reason, Mai's gaze got Zoe to almost imperceptibly flinch. “Zoe Kitachi, yes.”

Anzu took it on herself to continue, leaning to one side of her chair. “Grumpy is Zenji,” she said, pointing at Zenji, who frowned, “Sleepy is Saori,” and Saori waved, “and Dopey #1 here,” and Anzu then jammed a thumb in her own direction, “is Anzu.”

“Don't say that about yourself,” Mai said, frowning and giving a little gasp. “I'm sure you're a very intelligent person, Anzu-_san_!”

“...You just met me,” Anzu said, staring blankly at Mai.

“Yes, but you dress so uniquely!” Mai said, sparkling, clapping her hands together by her head. “And such strong fashion sense... nobody with that sort of keen eye could be considered _dopey_.”

There was a moment's pause before Anzu turned her head to me. “So I have no idea what your deal actually is, but thank you for toning it down.”

“No problem,” I said, “it is kind of a lot.”

“Yaaaaay,” Saori said, giving two thumbs up. She made a small jingle with her mouth. I still don't know what it meant.

With a loud clap from Wataru, business was now in session. “Hi, everyone,” Wataru said, nodding to the room, taking a sip of his tea. “We found Ryo's old friend,” and he gestured to Mai, taking an empty seat across from me. “Apparently, his old friend is currently going by Mai Orihara.”

“Yes, that's correct,” Mai nodded.

“So _this_ person here,” Wataru said, gesturing to me, “who we've known as Mai Orihara, is...”

“Yuki,” I said.

“Yamada-_san_'s surname is legally Orihara as well, but they used Yamada when leasing our apartment and by now it's stuck,” Mai said. She twiddled with a lock of her hair, which even now teased into an alluring ringlet, and kept on that serene smile.

“Hold on,” Zenji said, frowning, raising his hand. “'Our' apartment?”

“Er, yes?” Mai said, her eyes widening quizzically. “The two of us live together.”

“Oooooooh,” Saori said, taking a sip of her tea, her eyes darting towards Anzu.

“Wha—shut up,” Zenji said, snorting at Saori, who giggled. “No, okay, so we're talking about this. So you're saying that Ryo's childhood friend is the real Mai Orihara who lives with this, uh, Yuki, here, who is Kenichiro's kid, and they're all kind of interconnected in this weird net, but Ryo _doesn't_ know Yuki.”

...That was a thought. When gazes turned to Ryo, all the boy could do was offer a shrug. “It was a weird set of circumstances,” Kenichiro said. “It's definitely not impossible.”

“Why was Yuki pretending to be you, then?” Anzu asked. Ah, the question of the hour.

“Er...” Mai chuckled, and that got her to blush—always very bright on her cheeks. She twiddled her fingers together. “About that... it's a little embarrassing...”

“I don't give a shit, tell me,” Anzu said.

“You see...” Mai closed her eyes, placed a hand on her chest, and laughed a small laugh. “Er, you're all aware that I, Mai Orihara, am a magician, correct?” Nods. “This is somewhat embarrassing, but... I suffer from horrible stage fright.”

“Really bad,” I added.

“Add to that my complexion making the spotlights harsh on my eyes,” Mai said, “and it becomes very difficult to put my theory into practice no matter how solid it is.”

“A _magician_,” Zenji said, “with _stage fright_.”

“A lifelong history of social anxiety, actually, but it manifests particularly strongly when being observed like that,” Mai clarified. “So, Yamada-_san_ became the public face of the magician Mai Orihara. They act in my stead on stage and when public appearances become necessary.”

Mai said this with an even tone, but it was obviously a hard pill to swallow if you just looked at the face of it. “Huh,” Wataru said, nodding slowly to himself. “I, uh. That's... huh.”

“I, erm... don't go... outside. Much,” Mai said, blushing again. “I... don't think our landlord knows I exist.”

“Doing surprisingly well for someone with social anxiety,” Anzu commented.

“Ah, well, I can do it when it counts, I think...” Mai said, letting out a breath. “Yamada-_san_ needs me to pull through, so I will!” She pumped her fist and patted her bicep.

“So,” Wataru said, “Mai Orihara is actually a duo act. Ooookay,” he said, nodding again. “What's up with Yuki?”

“Now that I'm _here_, it's difficult to pretend being me, which I understand is at least something to focus their mind on,” Mai said. “It seems like they don't have their sword, though, and I would imagine that's the most important thing.”

“Wait, wait,” Kenichiro said. He blinked in bafflement. “Yuki has a sword?”

“Yes, a wooden katana we found lying around the Orihara household,” Mai said. “It's Yamada-_san_'s signature item. They never leave home without it, and it greatly steadies their mind. I am... well, not necessarily the greatest expert, but I would imagine that the combination of lacking it for over a day along with both finding me also in danger and no longer being able to pretend to be me was a set of circumstances all in a row which resulted in a great deal of mental anguish.”

“You have a _sword_?” Kenichiro asked me.

I groaned. “Yes,” I said, looking at him, “I have a sword. And of course they stole all sorts of things from our apartment but not my sword, which I had _on my body_.”

“I've certainly heard of stranger security blankets,” Zoe said.

“Your sister goes out in public and on stage and pretends to be you,” Zenji said, waving his hands a bit to try and catch up, “because you're a magician with stage fright.”

Mai paused. “...Yes,” she said, a vacant look in her eye, “that is in fact correct.”

Zenji then turned his head to me. “Uh, damn,” he said. “That's. That's, uh.” He snapped his fingers. “What's the word.”

“Please tell me you at least go out as yourself sometimes,” Kenichiro said through his teeth as he grimaced.

“Wha—of course I do!” I sputtered. “I have... work. Multiple jobs at a time, usually, and... er, the beginnings of a social life, even... I think.”

Zoe let out a breath, her hand on her chest. “I was becoming very concerned there for a moment.”

“Why?” Mai asked.

“Well, I—” Zoe began.

“Because subsuming your entire life for another person to live vicariously through you is super fucked,” Anzu said. “Hell, submitting any of your life to that at all is pretty worrying, especially as young as you two are.” She raised an eyebrow disdainfully. “What, can't the Oriharas, of all families, hire a counselor for their Snow White?”

—There it was. Before we could even discuss what this meant for the situation at hand, of course the daughter of a high-ranking executive of whatever would play the family card. This is not a disdainful statement—it's just true.

“Huh?” Wataru blinked. He turned his head to Anzu. “Okay, comments aside, what?”

“What?” Anzu raised an eyebrow, leaning back in her chair again. “Do I need to explain what a counselor is?”

Zenji spoke up here, with his arms crossed. “This sort of thing isn't common knowledge, kid. Not a lot of people care that much. You and me're...” He waved his hand about vaguely. “Uniquely privileged here.”

“You... are, sir?” Mai asked, visibly trying her best to ignore that comment Anzu had just made.

With a heavy sigh, Zenji put his elbow on the table and rolled his eyes disdainfully at, seemingly, himself, before continuing. “Let's talk politics for a second, Wataru,” he said. “Who would you say the most powerful person in the nation is?”

“..._Wha?_” Wataru blinked a few more times, his jaw slightly agape. “Uh, the Prime Minister, I guess...”

“Okay, that's a fair answer for someone not initiated here,” Zenji said, nodding. “That's what we're taught about government. Theoretically, that's true—but what if someone controls the Prime Minister?”

“Well, then I guess they'd be more powerful,” Wataru said. He narrowed his eyes. “Is this a cult or something?”

“What?” Zenji's eyes widened. “No. What? Seriously. Think about it for a second. Who in this nation is in the best possible position to control the Prime Minister?”

“I mean, I guess... ummm...” Ah, so this was a weak point of Wataru's, I thought.

“Would it be one of his cabinet ministers?” Saori tilted her head. “Maybe he's having an extracurricular love affair that would serve as gossip.”

“Of course he is,” Zenji said, shaking his head, “politicians always do. That's not—”

“His wife,” Ryo said, which got the room to turn their heads toward him. “Um...”

After a look of shock, Zenji looked oddly proud. “Yeah, got it in one, kid. It's a story you hear in every nation's history—some idiot ruler who let his libido give his wife the keys to the nation. It takes a specific kind of woman, one who's shrewd, one who's willing to manipulate things.” He paused, then looked at Mai. “A woman like Shizuku Orihara.”

“...That's not... an inaccurate description of her,” Mai said, averting her eyes.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait,” Wataru said, waving his hands around, gritting his teeth. “You can't be serious. Okay, I get what you're implying here,” and at this point I realized he was actually rather flustered, “but you're not serious, right? It's gotta be a coincidence.”

“Then ask her,” Zenji asked, and cocked his head towards Mai. “You're Oriharas. Are you Shizuku Orihara's daughters?”

“...I—” Mai began.

“Y-yes,” I said, speaking up, clearing a blockage in my throat as I did. “Yes. That's... that's my—_our_... mother.”

Zenji took a moment to exult in the fact that he was right, and had a little smile. Then his smile fell, and he sighed, long, loud, and tired. “Fuck,” he said.

“_What_,” Wataru said, his jaw a bit more agape now. He shook his head. “What?!”

“Oh, I see,” Saori said, lighting up a bit. “We have the Prime Minister's daughters with us.” She paused a moment, then nodded to herself, putting her hand on her chin. “Woooow.” Kenichiro's sigh was heavy.

* * *

In the case that this is read by someone at a time when the family has become a historical footnote, let me, as someone who has inside understanding, explain.

The Orihara family is one which has existed for some time in the annals of Japanese politics, a bloodline which, ideologically, at the very least, stretches back well into the period when our nation was still isolated from the rest of the world. While it has never held a proper ruling position, it has always existed in close proximity to ruler after ruler, in the roles of confidant, general, and so on.

In modern times, it tends to remain somewhat under the radar as a rule of thumb so as not to attract too much attention, but the family is very much alive and continues on in its goals—a desire to staff Japan with people who can do what must be done as right hands to the nation itself.

I would never claim to know whether my mother, **Shizuku Orihara**, is truly descended from that ages-old bloodline herself. However, I can say this—though in marrying the man who became Prime Minister, she doffed the name herself, never will you find a prouder Orihara than her.

When I first met her, at twelve years old, she struck me. I now know that at the time she was forty-seven, and yet with the grace she wore, the stern, sharp features on her face, her tied-up, raven-black hair, she seemed ageless, like she had walked out of a painting. It didn't help that she wore a _yukata_, as I was delivered to the family's home. Purple and blue, with a dahlia-print pattern.

I fell to my knees, then. I was awed. Me, in my messy clothes, with my messy hair—I could never hold a candle to this woman. She gazed at me in a manner even I could not read, though that was perhaps because I could not bring myself to wonder as to the thoughts of such a woman.

“The doctor tells me your name is Yuki,” were the first words my mother said to me.

—To one such as me, too, this house in which she lived, this old-style Japanese manor, with ponds and topiary and bridges in its yard, this also was a world to which I could surely never compare. “Well?”

“Ah, y-yes!” I started awake, waving my hands awkwardly. “Hello! T-thank you for taking me in, O-Orihara-_san_!”

Mother then took another appraising glance at me, taking in this wretch who stood at her doorstep. She closed her eyes. “Don't look so stunned. This is your home now. Did they not make that clear?”

“No, ma'am, I-I understand...” I trailed off, bowing my head.

“Then you shall understand something else,” she said, and I heard the sound of her sandals approaching me. “I am not Orihara-_san_ to you. You may remember your connection to the mother you lost, but as you have been entered into my family you are now my daughter, and I your mother.”

“Y-your—” I cut myself off, looking up again at her face which bore no expression. “Your daughter?”

“Is that not correct?” she asked.

“Well, er, I—” I shook my head. I wasn't sure how to finish that sentence. A curious feeling filled my chest.

“I would have you understand one more important thing,” Mother said, “before you continue to fret further. To enter into my home is not to exist in the same world in which you have lived until now. You are a child now, but I will see you advance to adulthood with grace.”

“I... don't understand,” I admitted.

That got the face of Shizuku Orihara to break for a moment, into a little smirk. “Let me rephrase, then. Members of the Orihara family do not burn out and die in a gutter. You will succeed. You _will_ become worthy of the name Orihara.”

“...Mother?” I said, cursing myself for every syllable. “With all due respect, I'm twelve. This seems a bit beyond me.”

And then that smirk—became a smile, no matter how small. She shook her head. “Of course it is. I appreciate your honesty. It's indicative of a good heart.”

“Oh, um... thank you?” I looked away.

“Forgive me, it's been some time since I spoke to someone your age,” she said. “You would prefer it in more positive terms, I'm sure. Blunter. Easier to understand. I'll think on that. However, I have a lesson for you.”

“Um, yes?!” I squeaked, looking up.

“Daughters of the Orihara family should not be needlessly dirtying their family's lawn by kneeling on it as though they've just witnessed divine intervention,” she said, and it was then that I realized I was still kneeling. “Stand up, dust yourself off, and walk inside of the house that is now yours, Yuki Orihara. It is a good thing to understand that you own your possessions, that you are not imposing upon the wood by standing on it.”

It was a small smile, but it was genuine, that smile that Shizuku Orihara gave me. No matter what might happen to me, I don't think I'll ever forget it—that rare, genuine smile from the woman I called Mother.

* * *

“I don't _want_—!”

Before I realized what was happening, I had stood up, slamming my hands on the table. “—to talk about my family,” I panted. When had my heart started pounding again. “You can understand that, it's fine, but please _stop_. You can gossip behind my back all you want, I don't care.”

To be honest, I didn't expect the honest grimace I got from Zenji. “Um... sorry.” The word was still awkward to his lips.

But those two were still sitting there. Staring at each other. Anzu Itagaki, and Mai Orihara. They were staring. Mai did not betray much emotion, but I felt something there, something like a sense of having found... what, a rival?

“Nagisa,” I said. And the screen appeared. It had not turned on yet before I said, “Why is she here?”

“Hm,” said Nagisa Ayana, who appeared thankfully alone this time, as I couldn't take much of Phanuel's foolery. “That's a good question.”

Before anyone could keep talking, I continued. “Do you _want_ her here? Aren't there supposed to be thirteen?”

“I'll admit the effect this is clearly having on your psyche is... worrying,” Nagisa said. She crossed her arms and pondered for a moment. “Well, I certainly didn't bring her here. I'll see if I can find a way to send her off; it shouldn't be very hard.”

...Just like that? “Just like that?” I asked. Everyone else seemed to be surprised, too, but all I could feel was my own heartbeat.

Nagisa shrugged. “I don't have the time for outsiders. If you'd like her off the island, then she can leave safe and unharmed, though naturally she won't speak a word of this to anyone else just yet.”

“Yamada-_san_,” Mai said, her eyes wide. What was that?

“Welp!” Kenichiro clapped, rubbing his hands together. “Nice seeing you again, thanks for the tea. Bye!” He gave a little wave, smiling.

“Wait, hold on, but we just—!” Wataru began.

“This woman is hampering proceedings,” Nagisa said, levying her eye at Wataru. “I don't want her here. This is non-negotiable. Yuki, if you would escort her to the flower field in the back, I've just prepared you a vessel to send her off on.”

“Great!” I said, giving an awkward fistpump. “Let's go, Mai!”

“Wait, Yamada-_saaaan_!” Mai said, wailing as I grabbed her by the arm and began to drag her off. “Ryo, help!”

—But I know that as she wailed, and as confusion reigned, the white-haired girl in my arm looked back at the red-haired girl who'd challenged her. And I know what that look meant.

_This isn't over_.

Disregarding all else, I dragged Mai, who put up a feeble resistance, out the back to the flower field. True to Nagisa's word, there was now a small boat on the shoreline, a small boat which bobbed up and down in the light tides. I didn't know who was driving it or where it was going to go, necessarily. I just knew that I needed this woman _away_.

“Yamada-_san_, wait, you're hurting me!” she cried. “I—”

“Why are you here?”

My back was slumped and my fists clenched as I said this, staring out towards the water, letting go of her arm. I did not look at her. “Well... I-I don't know,” Mai said, putting on worry in her voice. “I don't know, Yamada-_san_. I just—”

She cut herself off, cut that protest off. “Well, I—don't I have the right to be here, so to speak? Why are you being so hostile?”

“The _right to be here_?” I scoffed. “We've been kidnapped. What—”

“You're _hurting_ me,” she said, rubbing her wrist. “You're hurting me. Don't you want me here?”

“Want you here—”

The sheer absurdity of that statement sent my consciousness for yet another loop. Want her here? Who would want to be here in the first place? Why would my opinion matter? Any sane person would want to be off this island where nothing made sense! Go home! Go home! Let this nightmare _end_!

“...Don't you want me here?” Mai said, with tears in her eyes. “Don't you _love_ me?”

“Who _are you_?!” I roared.

I spun on my feet, grabbed her wrist, and switched positions with her, sending her closer to this mysterious boat which I somehow knew only one person could take. “Why are you here? Why are you here?!” I wailed again. “Who are you?! You can't be here! Get away from me! I can't deal with this! I can't deal with _you_!”

—And then everything went quiet, and she went quiet, too.

“Okay,” she said. “I understand.”

What? “What?” I asked, and I turned around, and there she was, on the edge of that boat.

“I understand,” she repeated. She was smiling. Smiling. Smiling. “You want me to go away, right? You want me to leave you by yourself?”

And then.

She pulled something out from behind her back

“Remember, you asked for it,” and that smile grew just a little more crooked.

And then she **shot herself**

in front of my eyes she **sh o t h e r s e l f**

**_blood_ blasting out of the side of her head as a _fucking bullet_ pierced the side of her skull and then her body casually slumped and fell over to the side and she wasn't moving and**

**and what else was I supposed to do but ask**

_“help me, please”_

I launched out of my bed, gasping, sweating, once again, but this time I grasped my forehead with three fingers, clutching it in disbelief and horror and pain, a dull, throbbing pain in my skull. I looked down at my hands, clenching my fingers to ensure they moved, and looked around.

There, standing by my cracked bedroom mirror, was Ryo, staring at it, having taken off his beanie and laid it on the dresser, holding something in his hand.

“Ry...o...” I croaked, my voice coming out raspy.

The boy made a small sound, but turned to see me, and then smiled brightly. “Hi,” he said.

“Sorry, I...” I trailed off. “I-I didn't... really...”

Ryo nodded, still smiling, and that was when I realized that he had draped his coat on me. How kind. With small gestures, he held out a flower... “Rosemary,” he said. He was smiling.

“Ah,” I said. I understood this one. “I see.”

“Mmhm,” he responded. There wasn't much need to say anything else, so he nodded towards the door to communicate he was going to get someone, pointed at a glass of water on my nightstand, and left, thankfully saying nothing about my collection of samurai movies.

My heart was still pounding at an incredible rate, so I laid back down, my hand on my chest, to try and steady myself. I was without my sword still, yes, but... how had I gotten here from the supermarket, again?

A knock on the door. “Excuse me,” and Saori entered. She held a glass of water in her hand, which, when she turned to me, stopping to turn as though she were a tank, she held out to me. “Hello.”

“Hello,” I said. I took the glass and greedily gulped down the water, immediately feeling a great deal more alive for having hydrated myself. “Sorry to worry you.”

“It's alright,” Saori said, and she smiled. “I think you shouldn't push yourself like that, though.” She raised her hand, and took on a slight tone of authority that didn't quite suit her. “Passing out once is a coincidence, but twice is a pattern.”

“Frankly, Saori-_san_, I think passing out once is worrying to begin with...” I said, chuckling under my breath.

Saori smiled a bit brighter, and laughed herself. “Wataru told me to tell you that you don't have to come out once everyone gets back, that we can talk about what we found in the car ourselves.”

“...Thank you,” I said, and nodded my head.

“You're doing a good job,” Saori said, though she added an, “I think.” Then she grew serious again. “...Do you have a history of illness?”

“Ah...” I laughed ruefully. “Yes, actually, I... was a rather sickly child. I've had to work hard to overcome it in the past few years, and I haven't quite shaken it.”

“Okay,” Saori said. “In a foreign environment like this, you might be getting sick from microorganisms your system finds unusual. You should take care. Remember to wash your hands for...” She trailed off, looking up. “A long time,” she finished.

“Right,” I said, nodding curiously. “Saori-_san_, you're being surprisingly vigilant.”

“Hee,” Saori said, and then gave a deep, long yawn. “Mm. That's it from me.”

“Sleep well, Saori-_san_,” I said.

“Try and sleep well, Mai,” Saori responded.

Then I laid back, and waited, and waited until everything was quiet. _Don't worry about it_, I told myself, _just let yourself calm down. Don't worry about it. Everything is alright._

Right. Everything was okay. I'd just passed out. Everything was...

...okay.


	11. Welcome to Sinner Hunter, 7 ~ A Night by the Waves

_ Human consciousness is not a line. It does not process information cleanly, evenly, as a shark swims by breathing. No, human consciousness is frustratingly scattershot—it jumps back and forth between thoughts and impulses at incredible rates, but also alters or muddles those same thoughts or impulses such that we as humans occasionally can find ourselves completely unsure what we are doing or why we are thinking what we are thinking._

_ It's a wonder, then, that any of us can do anything at all. I'm told I'm an abnormally difficult case, but even neurotypical people must have an incredible amount of difficulty piloting themselves on a daily basis. I envy the human race's tenacity in continuing on with so many bugs in their operating system._

_ I place down my pen and take a sigh of relief, slumping back in my chair. Wiping the sweat from my brow, I find that though my hand and mind had been shaky, I'm less sweaty than I imagined. With a small smile, I think to myself that, well, then I'm certainly not such a coward anymore, am I?_

_ That scene—it still haunts the corners of my eyes when I am truly in despair. But I wrote it down. My own visceral, raw reaction, the feelings I felt then, as though the entire world were melting around me; it's there, now. It's there._

_ Suddenly, I feel a little rush in my chest, fluttering with pride at my own accomplishment. As idiotic as it seems, I stand up and start jumping up and down, pumping my fists in small, feminine gestures. That hump I was so afraid of seems so small now! I, Yuki, have surmounted this great challenge!_

_ Going over to the mirror, I start wagging my finger at myself and puffing my cheeks. “Now, Yuki,” I say, putting on a motherly tone, “I know that was tough for you, and you should be proud, but you can't ignore your health! Go eat something!”_

_ “Yeah, idiot,” I continue, putting on my best impression of my darling fiancee (which I'm told is unsettlingly good), “I told you to take a break and you just didn't. You know your body has needs, right?”_

_ “Why, I reckon you're about to fall over if'n you don't get yourself some sorta sustenance or whatnot!” I continue again, in an impression of a certain unmistakable woman._

_ Then I pause, and mumble, “Oh god, how long have I been working?”_

_ The answer is five hours. I have been working at this for five hours. Five hours is a long time—long enough to get me to start talking to myself from overexertion leading to dehydration. _

_ With that understood, I'll come back to this with a fresh head tomorrow. Right... There's just one more hump to get over before the first round comes to an end, and it's much smaller. Just breathe, Yuki. You can do this. I can do this. _

* * *

From the outside, this library that sat on the other side of the island looked in a sorry state, its upkeep lost long ago. Moss covered the low reaches of the building, somewhat larger than the Kansai Super, with windows up above not giving a proper angle to see inside. The faded, graying bricks still seemed sturdy, their caulk connections staying strong—but then, this building was too high for most tides to reach, and it seemed unlikely that this island was on a fault line for an earthquake to ruin. The library did not sit upon a parking lot; rather, it sat upon a lush patch of green grass on this high cliff, across which you could see the Kansai Super from below. There was no signage to give this library a name, or any indication as to why it was built or who stocked it.

“Are you loaded?” Tsukihi asked, and Bella sternly nodded, the both of them standing beside the double doors that led into the library. “Park, Sonohara. Stand back. The two of you seem less combat-capable.”

“Hey, I've survived Comikets in my time,” Juri said, waggling her finger and putting her other hand on her hip. “Those are warzones! I'm a warrior same as any other!”

On the other hand, Park seemed all too eager to stand back, staggering a little further on account of no longer having a vehicle to hide behind. “I-if you insist, Ms. Sonohara!”

“Listen, y'all,” Bella said, closing her eyes, “no matter what happens, we're goin' down together! We're a team! We gotta stick together and—”

Minato's step was astonishingly spry as he sprung past Tsukihi and Bella, throwing the doors, which opened inward, wide, standing on one leg and crossing his other above his knee as he leaned into the doors. “Hi! Anyone home?”

“_Are you insane?!_” Juri sprung over from her position in the back to grab Minato by the shoulders, shaking him. “Are you actually, literally insane?!” Her head swiveled to Tsukihi. “Tell him he's insane!”

“Given what just happened, I doubt he needs telling,” Tsukihi said, pocketing the knife she'd brought for offensive purposes.

“Ohh, sorry, did I scare you?” Minato asked, calm as a cucumber despite being shaken and stirred. He grinned. “Are you spooked?”

“What if you'd gotten shot just now, idiot?!” Juri hollered. “Would you still be smiling then?”

“Well, if it killed me, yeah, I would,” Minato replied, getting Juri to stop shaking him so that he could put his hand up to his chin and earnestly think about it. “I mean, I wouldn't have had time to change my face, right? So I'd die with a smile!”

Park put his head in his hands, shaking it as he did. “Oh, dear.”

“Minato, we need to have a serious discussion later about your self-preservation instinct,” Tsukihi said, frowning. She sighed and flipped her hair, putting one hand on her waist as she stepped into the library... though admittedly this is supposition as I wasn't there, but if anyone would know it would be me.

Sliding in behind her was Bella, leaning in close with her hands up in front of her chest so Juri, Minato, and Park were certainly aware that she was addressing all of them. “Now, y'all listen real good here. Young folk gotta be real careful with their lives, no bein' all lacksydaisical about it, you hear? We gotta listen real good to Boss Lady over here or we're fixing to lacksydaisy ourselves into pushing up daisies.”

“I-I was practicing proper safety procedures, myself!” Park said, raising his hands up by his head. “I swear! I haven't done anything—”

“Wait, how old are you?” Minato asked.

Bella put a coy finger up to her mouth. “Now, Minato, don't you know you ain't never supposed to ask a lady that?” She winked. “I'm a forgivin' soul, though. I'll let you go with a warning, sweetheart,” and at that, she reached over and patted Minato on the head.

“Nice!” Minato pumped his fists. “Headpats from a cute American lady! Her hands are really soft, you guys”—and here, he was looking back and forth between Park and Juri. Juri, of course, already knew this, but chose not to say so.

Knowing Tsukihi, she certainly pursed her lips, closing her eyes as she was turned away from the rest of the group. When you were an executive of who knew what or something like that, I'm sure it took a lot of work to maintain a certain level of quiet disdain for when people were acting like idiots.

...Just so we're clear, I also greatly respect Mrs. Itagaki. She's done plenty in her life that I'd certainly never have the stomach for. I also just have absolutely no head for business—I can rattle off all I need as a receptionist or tour guide (both positions I have held;), but it leaves my head basically as soon as I'm done speaking it, and I never really, earnestly learn any of what I'm saying if it doesn't interest me. I'm sure at some point I learned what it was Tsukihi actually did, but it interested me quite a bit less than everything else I came to learn about her.

Anyhow, the library. Counter to its seemingly dilapidated outside, while it was certainly devoid of people inside, the inside of the building was rather clean and sterling. Where the inside of Kansai Super was strangely gray, this building had an ethereal early-morning sunlight quality to the air, the sunlight trickling through the windows feeling gentle and soft on the shelves on the floor. The ceiling above was white, with an understated chandelier hanging from its center; the floors, wood, feeling natural and sturdy underfoot; the shelves neatly packed according to some sort of logic.

This was a two-level library. The walls of both floors were covered in bookshelves, with a few smaller shelves in each corner of the first level a few feet away from the main shelves. The second level was perfectly visible—it formed a balcony over the first level, with no central flooring blocking the sight. In the far back of the first level were the stairs up, two stairwells, one to each side of another double door in the far wall. Said door was black, metal, crafted with a golden print of a flower neither I nor Tsukihi recognized on sight.

Minato, though, chipped in. “Ah,” he said, nodding, making an 'ok' sign with his fingers. “Daturas. Bingo.”

“What _is_ a datura?” Juri asked, leaning in, putting her hands on her hips.

“A genus of flowers, duh. I think they originated from Mexico?” Minato tapped his lower lip with his index finger. “We could ask Ryo when we get back.”

Once all five of them had entered the door, Park and Bella politely closing the door behind them, there was a held moment of silence before Tsukihi declared, “I don't think we're in danger.”

“Heyyy, that's groovy, baby!” Minato said, with this odd, nasally tone to his voice. He clapped his hands and began sliding in place on his feet. At this point, though, he became more serious, his face falling. “Surprisingly low-tech. I'd figure it was a bit higher, knowing her. Any of you recognize this place?”

“It reminds me of _something_,” Juri murmured, “but I'm not sure what.” At this point, she performed an odd, characteristic gesture of swinging her hips out to the left, placing her right hand against her hip, touching at the wrist, and placing her left index finger on the top of her head and rocking it back and forth. “Hmm..._ hmmmm_!”

With that said, it seemed like it was time to inspect, so inspect everyone began to do, starting on the shorter shelves. Occasionally, people called to Juri to see if she'd remembered, but there was nothing. And so time passed.

“Er, we don't seem to—” Park began to speak up, but when everyone gave him the floor to speak, turning to him to pay attention, he grew a touch more bashful, averting his eyes. “Well, er, that is to say. We, um. There are quite a lot of books here,” he said.

“Yup.” Minato nodded.

“Er, that is.” Park began to gesticulate, looking almost like he was karate chopping the air. “That is to say! I, er—there are _quite_! A _number_ of books here, and that is going to make it difficult to _sort_ through if we're not privy to this building's _filing_ system. Yes,” he concluded, stopping his gesticulations and turning back to the group, his face bright red.

There was a pause.

“That's an astute observation,” Tsukihi said, nodding. “You're right, Mr. Park.”

“Oh, aha, yes, well,” Park said, and probably had a hint of a smile on his face. “I-I'm just, you know, happy to help, haha.” I am sure that at this point, Juri gave that grimacing look with her chin on her fist to Bella in search of some commiseration, but Bella just smiled and nodded, being of kinder character.

The datura-print door happened to be locked shut, but there were, by the look of things, two further chambers at the top of the stairwells. These were red doors, similarly ornate and datura-printed. “Then we oughta figure out if it's even got one,” Bella said, nodding her head, and taking the lead in stepping up these stairs. One chamber to the left, and one to the right. “I'll take the one on the left,” Bella declared, and turned her head to Tsukihi. “That good, Boss Lady?”

Tsukihi nodded back. “Certainly.”

...so as to spare you any further comedies of errors, I'll just inform you that it wound up being that Juri decided she was going to investigate the left room with Bella and the two men went with Tsukihi.

* * *

Inside the left room, Bella and Juri entered to find a room whose floor was surprisingly empty. The light streaming in from the single window quickly lead one's eyes to its purpose, though—in the wall were indentations, large enough to fit, say, a small trophy. A quick count led to the unsurprising conclusion that there were thirteen, in two rows—the top with seven, the bottom with six.

Most of them were empty, though. Eleven of these indentations appeared identical, just empty stands. Assuming that, from the left to the right, the top were entries one through seven and the bottom were eight through thirteen, numbers two and nine were the ones that were abnormal here.

Number nine was currently shining, a small stand inside glowing with a faint, gentle, white light. Two, however, was properly occupied; a golden statue of _something_ sat inside. “Hold up,” Juri said, raising her hand, “I've got experience with miniatures.”

The watchful eyes of mecha aficionado Achtzehn leaned in to inspect the golden statue within. There were two things on that stand that made up this little statue, something curled in front of—

“It looks like a kid and... a mirror,” Juri said. “A big, fancy mirror.”

“Well, does it reflect anything?” Bella asked, and Juri shook her head. “Then how can you tell?”

“Because I'm smart and I know how mirrors look,” Juri responded, and Bella nodded because that made sense. She was correct. This statue was, in fact, of a child—with a mop of messy hair, though not so detailed you could make out too much more detail—curled in the fetal position in front of a grand, ornate mirror. “So, uh...”

“Phanny, dear?” Bella asked, and arrive Phanuel did, zooming in from the ceiling. It looked a bit frazzled, though, looking away from the screen. “Er, you doin' alright, sweetheart?”

“Sorry, sorry!” Phanuel said, swiveling on its feet to turn back around. “I was a little lost in thought.”

“Hey, so I have a question,” Juri said, putting her hands on her hips and tapping her foot. “So are you, like, a person?”

“I think that depends on your definition of 'person'!” Phanuel said, a small sweatdrop appearing and then fading from its temple.

“No, seriously,” Juri said. “You're responding to us, you can show up on your own, and you can also talk to Nagisa. You're not her, right?”

“Ohhh, that's what you're asking,” Phanuel said. With a huff and a nod, it cleared its throat. “I'm an AI. You're familiar with those, right, Juri?”

“Since when do we have the tech for full-functioning AI with complete personalities?” Juri leered... not that anyone could see it.

Phanuel looked around the other side of the screen, ensuring Nagisa was not present, before leaning into the screen conspiratorially. “Nagisa picked up the basic code and principles off of the internet.”

“...Wha?” Juri and Bella both asked simultaneously.

“I know, right?” Phanuel's eyes were wide, too. “Some genius roboticist just sort of left their code sitting on some torrent sites a few years ago. She told me it looked fake at first glance, but she gave it a shot because the notes didn't seem fake and it was actually pretty incredible.”

“Who the hell would be that irresponsible?!” Juri sputtered.

“Could be someone who didn't wanna take the credit for it, I reckon,” Bella said, nodding to herself with her eyes closed. “Put it up and someone's bound to use it eventually, right?”

“That's way too convenient, right?” Juri asked, looking at Bella. “That's way too convenient!”

“Oh, c'mon now,” Bella said, grinning at Juri. “Tell me there ain't been more convenient stuff in that anime of yours.”

Juri stopped, then clicked her tongue. “God damn it, why are you right?”

“Down-home common sense, li'l missy!” Bella laughed, patting her bicep. “Anyhoo, _I_ was more askin' about this here room, and the little statue here.”

“Oh, that,” Phanuel said. “Well, this is kind of a commemorative room for you guys. That glowing one there is for the Prince! When the round's over, the statue will be built to commemorate what he got through to get through his round of Sinner Hunter.”

There was a pause as both women digested this information. “Wait, wha—” Juri began, starting back, then taking a look at the statue of the child and the mirror.

“Yes,” Phanuel said.

“Then—” Juri started.

“Mmhm,” Phanuel nodded.

“Who?!” Juri started to approach closer, but then Bella raised her hand in front of Juri's face to stop her.

“If we weren't there to hear it, I figure we don't get to know just yet,” Bella said, and Juri sighed and grumbled something about how that made sense, she supposed. “Still, that's great, ain't it? Real nice! One down already!”

“Yeah, I'm with her!” Phanuel said. “I—ohwaitsorrygottagoNagisa'scallingmebye!”

And, thus, with a _fwoop_, Phanuel was gone.

“Well, okay, great,” Juri said, throwing her hands up. “Okay. Yeah.” The other side of this room had a few shelves of its own, so she began idly rifling through those.

“Er...” Bella trailed off for a moment, her brow furrowing. “You good, Juri? We're gettin' out sooner...”

“Yeah, sure, fine,” Juri said, waving her hand.

“...Wanna talk about it, sweetheart?” Bella asked, inching closer.

“No!” Juri shouted, clapping a random book she'd just opened to make a loud sound. Bella jumped a little. “Nope. I don't. No.”

“You sure?” Bella asked.

“Eleven is less than twelve!” Juri declared, which got Bella to stare in confusion... not that Juri could see that, since she wasn't facing Bella. “Eleven is less than twelve. Fewer, even.” She waggled her finger. “That's math.”

“Well, it sure is, but I'm not sure what exactly you mean, hun,” Bella said, tilting her head. “Are you—”

It was a convenient thing for Juri that her eyes were blocked by her glasses, because I'm sure I know exactly how they were at that moment. They weren't reading a single word. No, they were darting about chaotically, unable to zero in on a single point. I'm sure she felt as though she was about to vibrate her own bones into a fine paste and collapse to the ground. “Aren't you scared?” Juri asked, and that got Bella to stop. “I saw how you were. You were more terrified than _anyone_.”

“...What's that supposed to mean?” Bella asked, her voice becoming quiet.

With book in hand, Juri turned around. She was sweating, but stoic, leaning back against the bookshelf. “That's one less person until either of us comes up, is what I mean. Aren't you scared?”

A painful grimace came over Bella's features as she clenched her fists, looking away. “I—!”

“I guess it's all pointless, huh...?” Juri laughed. “It's all over...” She raised her hands and clenched her head with them. “It's all over. It's still just all over...”

“No, there's... there's no way,” Bella said. Her shoulders began to slump. “I... there's no way. We're gonna get off here before that happens, right? We're... I... no, no, there's—”

The sun blared in through the window. “Something's... funny, here...” Bella said, slumping down on the ground just as Juri did. “Something's awful funny...”

“Something's awful alright,” Juri said, with a defeated, hysterical cackle. “Oh man. Eleven is fewer than twelve.”

“We gotta... we gotta stay calm...” Bella said, beginning to hyperventilate. “Is it hot in here? It's hot. It's hot in here, it's... We gotta stay... c-calm...”

Lurching over, Bella grabbed Juri's shoulders. There was something very, very wrong, something very, horribly wrong, and Bella didn't know what it was but maybe they just needed to weather it. “Juri, Juri, Juri,” Bella said, “Juri, stay with me. Tell me about something, anything!”

“Why?” Juri laughed, almost drunkenly. Whatever was happening, it seemed to be affecting her more strongly than it was Bella. “Nobody ever asks about me,” she said. “I'm boring, I sit in the corner, I do my work and then I clock out...”

A palpable terror began to come over Bella, but she tried her best to fight it off by beginning to rifle through Juri's pockets. What she came to was that photo, the same one Juri had looked at before. “Oh, uh! Who's this, sweetie?”

“Huh?” Juri asked, and even through the haze of whatever was happening to cause the sunlight to twist from in the window, and had it always been so twisty, anyhow, she recognized it. “Ohhh! Yeah, that's me and Sachi,” she laughed.

“Uh, friend of yours?” Bella asked, her tone a bit more hurried than she'd like.

“I mean, she's not _literally_ my sister or anything,” Juri said, raising her hands like she was telling herself the most hilarious joke in the world, “but it's that kind of relationship, you know... her, uh, her dad's one of my coworkers or something...”

“Tell me about—” Bella began.

And then the world almost seemed to repressurize itself, like these chambers had suddenly come to a standstill after constantly shaking. With a heavy jolt, both Bella and Juri slumped, the sunlight from the window returned to normal, and certainly, neither of these two were losing their minds any longer in that specific manner.

Juri's glasses slid off their nose for a moment before she squawked. “Holy _shit_ you're forward!” she yelled.

“Wha, wha, wha,” Bella said, standing up and waving her hands. “No, no! You were, and I was, gaaaaahhhh!” For being so flirtatious towards the boys, being called out like this seemed to have a strong effect on this maiden's heart.

Pushing her glasses up, Juri staggered up herself. “Why am I on the floor?”

“Well, er, you got all... and then...” Bella trailed off. Since she herself was feeling a bit delirious just now, she found it difficult to describe. “...uh, I figure you had a panic attack, maybe?”

“Oh,” Juri said. She blinked. “Yeah, I've blacked out from those before, that would make sense, I guess,” she said, nodding earnestly.

“I think that's its own kinda worrying!” Bella shouted.

...And then conversational momentum dropped, so the two of them slumped next to each other on the wall again. It took a few moments before Juri noticed what was in Bella's hand. “Hey—”

“Oh! Sorry,” Bella said, bashfully waving her hands about a bit before gently giving the photo back to Juri. “Sorry sorry.”

“It's... fine, I guess,” Juri said. Her glasses slid down her nose again from the sweat, so Bella could see her eyes softening as she held this precious possession in her hand.

“Musta been awful important if they brought it with you,” Bella said, turning her head again to Juri once she had curled up comfortably against the shelf.

“Oh, I, uh... I keep it with me when I go places, is all,” Juri said. At the sound of Bella's curious aura (a high-pitched whining not unlike a radio siren), Juri sighed. “Well, uh...”

“You look like you're havin' fun,” Bella said, “all dolled up like that. I ain't ever been to a con_._”

“Heh, well, it is fun. It just takes a certain level of fortitude, you know. A level of stick-to-it-iveness,” Juri huffed. She crossed her arms, nodding smugly. “Achtzehn and Puropurin! I like to think we make a pretty solid team, even if she has terrible taste in Chars.”

“...Like, charbroiling?” Bella blinked.

“No, no, Chars, like iterations on the—” Juri sputtered. “See, so there's this guy named Char Aznable, and he's cool, and he's from the original Gundam, so then every following Gundam has to have a guy who is at least two of evil, blonde, and wears a mask. Now, Char's obviously the best Char, but she has this weird thing for Zechs from _Wing_ because he's her type or something, though of course she would because _Wing _has that sort of pretty boy aesthetic that teen girls go wild for.”

The bothered, kvetching tone to Juri's voice made Bella giggle, no doubt feeling a bit heartwarmed by this sort of close family relationship. “She a bit boy-crazy, then?”

“Ugh, you should see her and her boyfriend,” Juri groaned, rolling her eyes. “She's all obnoxiously lovey-dovey. 'Senpai, Senpai,' she calls, betraying me by going and becoming a normie.” She made a spitting sound. “I mean, they've known each other since middle school! They're basically childhood friends! That's so fucking normie, man!”

“Is this Senpai of hers a blonde pretty boy?” Bella chuckled.

“Nah, he's more the dark, quiet type. Nice guy, though, I guess, as far as normie boys go. He's an athlete, too, so they go well together—Sachi swims, see, it's like her second thing after being a nerd, plus she had this period where she had to operate her wheelchair manually so she's got surprisingly buff arms. She could probably beat my ass physically because I have bones made of glass, like I don't have osteoporosis or anything but I'm a weenie, I'm not hard to beat in a fight,” Juri said. She loudly groaned. “Though she still likes to go, oh, Juri, you're the older one here, you should be the tougher one, even though she knows full well she could probably destroy people way better than me. I mean, she's got a vehicle, you know?”

Bella was properly laughing at this point, and at Juri's baffled look, Bella only started laughing more. “Oh man,” she said, “ehe, say it, don't spray it, girlfriend!”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Juri asked, grumbling.

“You really love this girl, huh?” Bella asked, wiping a tear or two of mirth away from her eyes. That got Juri to loudly sputter. “Seems like you're a wonderful sister, if'n you ask me.”

“Well, you know, she's...” Juri trailed off, rubbing the back of her head, averting her eyes. “I mean, it's like... well, you know—”

“She's pretty as a peach. How'd you meet?” Bella said, with a gentle smile.

“Ah, her dad got demoted,” Juri said, crossing her arms, probably thankful for the diversion. “Used to be a bit higher up, but he got put in my department. We hit it off because he's kind of a Dad Guy and I guess I give off an aura like I need parenting or something? Nobody else really wanted to talk to him, but... well, I didn't want him to feel lonely, I guess,” she continued, looking down. “Um, I mean, like... middle-aged guys like that, they always seem kinda set in their ways, and if they get shamed like that who knows if people are going to respect them after that. He took it on the chin, but I still felt bad.”

“Uh-huh.” Bella nodded sagely. “I getcha, I getcha. Daddy ain't made any new friends in a while, neither.”

“Wait, how old's your dad?” Juri asked.

“Sixty-eight,” Bella said, smiling.

“Anyway, after a few weeks' worth of that, he invited me over to his house,” Juri said. “Just up and asked me one day, heyyy, Sonohara!” This was accompanied by a wave and a big smile. “And I wasn't about to say no. I came to his house and he and his wife were two peas in a _pod_, I swear. Some of the most open, trusting people I've ever met, those two. And she's all, oh, you must be Juri, it's so good to meet you!”

When Juri gets into this sort of narration, she has a habit of performing impressions to attempt to keep straight who is talking, which includes a fair bit of gesticulation. I call on you to imagine this, as my exacting detail would get tedious to write and to read.

“Sachi was, uh, I think, like... thirteen at this point? She's seventeen now, turning eighteen in about a month, she's a Christmas Eve baby of all things?” Juri continued. “It's a two-floor house but her room's on the first floor, so they called her out to meet me. Now, she's a cute kid here, right? This was sixteen, she was sixteen, well she was a _mess_ when she was thirteen. Messy hair, frown lines, still dealing with anger issues. She's so nervous when she comes out, I swear her eyes are going to pop out of her head. She's all, _Motherrrr. I have enough trouble preparing myself in the morning and you bring someone into my house?!_”

“It was pretty awkward at first,” Juri said, looking up with a wistful look before returning to her gesticulation. “She and I are cut from kind of similar cloth, social awkwardness and all, so even though both of her parents really loved having me over, I wasn't sure what to make of her and she wasn't sure what to make of me. I've never had any siblings or anything, and I'm, uh... I'm no good at talking to kids, I guess. It's not until I've been over a few times that I wind up catching a glimpse inside her room. Now, they've mentioned she's a nerd and stuff, genius programmer, stuff like that, but I didn't fully understand until I saw in there.”

There was a pause for effect. “Well? Well?” Bella leaned in, eyes wide.

“Anime boy posters,” Juri continued, closing her eyes in nostalgic recollection. “Wall to wall. Miniatures, too. Figurines. Poseable ones. Shelves full of manga, too. This girl has a _cave_, Bella. A cave to _boythirst_. And that's not all that's in there, either, it's not like she's single-minded. I can tell she's into retro hipster stuff, she's got a CRT TV, some anime she's got in way old media, she's got this TI calculator that can somehow play _Final Fantasy 4_ on it. Then something clicks in my head, when I see she's got a signed copy of some Blu-Rays of this old anime called _Ouran High School Host Club_.

“I turn to Sachi and my eyes are all wide, and I'm all, you've gotta be kidding me. And she's all mortified because I looked in her room, but then she glares at me and is like, what? And I'm all, my coworker's daughter is that trash Zechs fangirl Puropurin!?” Juri laughed. “See, because it's not like she and I hadn't run into each other on the internet before! She's a champion internet debate person. So when she hears that, she audibly starts, and then she tells me to state my name, and suddenly rather than this awkward situation between two randos, two online warriors are getting into it in real life! She recognized my handle pretty quick, but even though things can get pretty heated on the internet, in a situation like this, that kind of common ground can really get you places, so soon we were laughing like old friends, because we kind of were.

“Sachi didn't have many friends back then, so if I wasn't already endeared as a regular guest, I sure as hell was now,” Juri said, smiling brightly. “I came over, well, I _come_ over to their house so often sometimes it feels like it's more my house than my apartment is. Her parents love me enough that they've said it's like they have two daughters now, and...” At that point, she began to get a little teary. “And honestly, it's just been really fulfilling as kind of a weird, lonely shut-in to watch Sachi blossom, because she's gotten a lot more socially capable than she was when she was younger. She was already great when that photo was taken, but nowadays she's... amazing. She interacts with people so well you'd hardly think she was a trash otaku able to break bread with me. She's really cute, too, a lot cuter than me.”

“That hair natural?” Bella asked, and Juri nodded. “Wow. Run in the family?”

“I donno. They adopted her, too— uh, they adopted... her. You know,” Juri said, cutting herself off after a slip of the tongue. “She doesn't look a thing like them. Dad's all square and dark, and Mom's all huffy and brunette, nothing like fiery little Sachi over here with her basically being an anime character herself—I mean, she's a genius programmer in a wheelchair with naturally green hair with a tsundere streak.” Pause, raise of the finger. “Fiery, yeah, that's a good word for it, but it's the cute kind of fiery where you both kind of know it's a game she's playing, unless her hackles get really raised about someone being wrong about something that's within her wheelhouse. She really is a genius, by the way, I'm not exaggerating or being overly proud of her, she's got an amazing talent and she works hard at being better, too. When I stand next to her, when we go to cons together or just even hang out outside the house, I feel even plainer than usual.”

Bella giggled to herself, her hand over her mouth. When Juri looked over, she said, “Sounds like y'all're awful lucky to be her family, to hear you tell it.”

If Bella noticed the slight downturn of the eyes that no doubt caused in Juri, the brief tensing of her arm muscles, then she certainly didn't say anything. “Yeah. Lucky to be her family, that's a good way to put it.” Juri paused, then looked up to the ceiling again. “Why am I talking about this?”

“Well, now I'm not sure what exactly caused this sequence of events, but I'm glad we did!” Bella said, smiling brightly and patting Juri on the shoulder. “Her birthday's in a month or so?”

“Uh, yeah...” Juri looked up. “It's November, right?”

“Well, if Bella had her druthers, lemme tell you, we'd all be home in time to celebrate with you!” Bella said. She stuck her tongue out and gave a thumbs up. “They don't mind twelve more, do they?”

“Okay, probably not, but what's a druther?” Juri asked.

“Sweetie, we'll be here 'til the cows come home if we chat about all the intricacies of my Dukely vernacular,” Bella said, and Juri nodded, because that was true.

* * *

The room the other three entered was a fair bit more cluttered than the trophy room. A few green-top desks were crowded together in the center to create a larger working space with lamps, clipboards, and empty folders sat atop it, and another desk stood at the end of the room beneath an open window, holding on it a computer and keyboard. On the wall to their right, like in its counterpart, this room had bookshelves, but on the wall to the left, instead there sat a strange board—its texture and look imitated that of cork, and it had within it thirteen indentations of various shapes and sizes, though they all seemed _rather_ key-shaped. Each was linked by colorful wire to small computer screens displaying an insignia.

Tsukihi first inspected this board, as, from experience, it gave off an air of being important. To wit, nine of the screens were yellow, with a lock symbol. Two were blue, with an inverse colored symbol representing a keyhole. The other two, meanwhile, were actually present in the board itself, and their screens were displayed green, with key insignia.

“Huh,” Minato said, putting his hands on his hips. “What do you think these are for?”

“I would imagine,” Tsukihi said, “that they are for doors.”

“Whoa!” Minato clapped. “Nice thinking, Boss Lady!”

Tsukihi frowned and turned her head to him. “Is this nickname going to stick?” She asked, her eyebrow arching in a manner I can tell you from experience is deeply threatening.

“Heh, probably,” Minato said, nodding to himself, and then craning his head towards the desks. “I—”

“Oh!” Park said, asserting himself into the conversation with a forceful finger-raising. “I see, I see. Do you both remember those locked doors on the third level?” He smiled, clearly proud of himself. “They're laid out the same, look—and one of them is in the same place Mr. Washizu came from when we first met him, you remember he said he woke up with a key?”

With a little nod, Tsukihi turned her own head back to the keyboard— key... key board? Corkboard? It wasn't actually cork... wouldn't 'keyboard' and 'key board' get confusing, since both of those objects were in the room? To the key holes- wait, no, argh, that describes an object! It isn't really a 'shelf'... 'Rack'? 'Holster'?

Tsukihi turned her own head back to the key display and said, “Ah. Astute. Meaning, then, that these two keys here are for two other doors on the same floor.” With that in mind, she pocketed them. “...I'd wonder, then, who found a key and hasn't said so. And why,” she added.

“Perhaps these are, er...” Park trailed off for a moment, but waved his hand in front of his face to reorient himself. “Personal rooms for each of us? Mr. Washizu did find his fishing rod in his, after all. It's possible there could be, well... things that this person might not want us to see in there.”

“The two of you should say nothing about this until I've had a chance to see if this room is unlocked,” Tsukihi said, without turning away from the display, “so that they might leave it unlocked.”

“Um, h-huh?” Park blinked.

“It might hold a clue to learning more, if they've been keeping it secret,” Tsukihi said, and though Park couldn't see her face, I have no doubt she looked a bit put off. “You're doing well, Mr. Park, but do keep up.”

“What if one of us is the person who found the room and you just told us you wanted to go in there?” Minato asked, tilting his head.

“Then you had better hope you can walk faster than I can,” Tsukihi said. “You might be able to, Kuromatsu, but I assure you it would be a close race. I could easily outpace Mr. Park, though—no offense.”

“Er, none taken,” Park said, with a nervous chuckle. “It's likely true, I'm not, ah, overly fast. I don't, ah—” But Tsukihi had already moved on from this conversation, as had Minato. “Aww.”

“Kuromatsu, could you inspect the computer?” Tsukihi asked, bending down toward the desks, aiming for their drawers. “Mr. Park, please assist me.” With a hurried agreement, Park began inspecting as well.

“On it,” Minato said, and sprang over to the computer, swinging his body into the chair in front of it in such a manner that it made a full 360-degree spin before landing him at the keyboard. (This action was directly described to me—it is not an embellishment.)

The desk drawers were numerous, as the desks crammed together for this administrative space were not small ones. Some had files written in an incomprehensible code, others were full of detritus like meaningless receipts. A few minutes later, though, Tsukihi found a plain-looking pamphlet written in plain Japanese, and quick inspection revealed what appeared to be an enumerated map of the library, the locked door aside. Looking at the numerical index... “Here we are,” she said. “I'll pocket this, but I have an idea of where to look now.”

“Oh, lovely,” Park said, covered in paper.

“I'll keep this handled in here, Boss Lady,” Minato said, raising his hand, “you two go look. This is more my speed.”

“In that case, I'll trust you with this,” Tsukihi said, standing up and inspecting her library index to be sure. “Come along, Mr. Park.”

“Ah, g-good luck in here, with that,” Park said, waving to Minato. Minato gave him an OK hand sign, and then Park and Tsukihi were gone.

Cracking his fingers, Minato allowed the silence to settle in. Truthfully, he'd already gotten onto the computer and gotten to inspecting some—it seemed like a computer designed for usage of a single database rather than multiple programs. It had a non-portable version, by the look of things, of the same enumerated map of the library that Tsukihi had just obtained.

The primary feature that Minato had access to that interested him, however, was one labeled 'Persons of Interest'. If it said Interest, that meant it was interesting, or so went his logic. Opening up this segment opened a search bar. Minato hummed, crossed his arms, and then pressed enter for a completely unfiltered search.

On his search, it informed him that 'results above Tier 4 filtered from sight', but he still got quite a few results. Scrolling through, he noted a number of familiar names as well as ones he didn't recognize. Each seemed to be seated at a level of security, and true enough, results with a level above 4 were not present in his search. An errant click on a level 4 result—a girl named 'Kari K.'—got him a denial message.

There were a surprisingly solid number of these, really. More people were involved in this than he thought, though naturally his interest was most piqued by those he couldn't inspect at all—all with a level above 1. That got him even more curious as to what exactly was going on here, of course... and _intensely_ curious about those who were more secretive. A number of the Sinners were, naturally, well past viewable. Funnily enough, he himself was a 3—he couldn't even inspect his own records! How rude.

His search did allow him to see certain vitals, so at the very least he could know, for instance, that 'Sachi O.' was an 18-year-old girl, or that Hotaru T. was a 57-year-old man (huh, really?), 'Hiro K.' was a 28-year-old man... well, there was this one entry, 'Yuki O.', whose gender field was marked with both a line to denote 'none' and a female symbol divided by a slash, so that was probably rather complicated.

How did you even _read_ this one, actually? He could tell there were a few foreign names in here, like what he guessed was 'Mabel' rendered in katakana, but this one was baffling. 'O' 'ji' 'man' 'di' 'a' 'su', C.? That was a 4, so he couldn't go in and tell. He scribbled it down in a note to himself, because he was clueless. If this... guy, apparently, was relevant, maybe someone would recognize him.

Stratifying the search had options such as 'Chapter', 'Level', 'Alphabetical', 'Age'... “Chapter?” Minato murmured. Clicking on that gave him a dropdown menu, but only 'Chapter 9' was available at the moment. Clicking on it gave him two results and one blocked off, listed as the Prince, so—

Aha! So these were two individuals of interest to this very incident! True enough, 'Emi S.', 32 years old, was one of the two results, and so was this 'Hiro K.', both of whom were level 1. Minato whistled a little tune to himself, clicking on Emi's profile.

She was certainly the same woman from that driver's license, and that got Minato to nod his head proudly, grinning to himself. Thirty-two year old Emi Shinoe was a Japanese teacher at a middle school in Kansai. He looked for data on her injury, and sure enough, it was severe; evidently, since six years ago, due to a bullet wound she had lost the use of her legs completely.

Looking at her family tree... oh, now _this_ was interesting, Minato thought. By the look of things, her mother had died when she was young, and her father remarried and had a second child. The father, mother, and stepmother were all listed as sub-pages on the database, but the half-sibling's name was marked out. He couldn't see their age, either, or the dates of the remarriage.

“Bingo,” Minato murmured to himself. Now, as for Shinoe's father and stepmother, it appeared that both of them had perished ten years ago, in 2033, from—

Minato's grip on his mouse loosened, and his eyes widened. He was struck into silence, seeing where Emi Shinoe's parents had died. Ten years ago was a time that had great significance for Minato, of course, but to think—

“Heh...” He began to laugh to himself under his breath. “No way. You too, huh...?”

Both of them had perished

in the _Opera House Massacre of 2033_.

“No way!” Minato said again, putting his hand on his face. “'Amidst the flames'... I seeeeee. Minato sees,” he said, nodding to himself, still laughing.

Before he could bring himself to look at this Hiro character, though, a thought struck him. He searched for a name, and it came up as a 1, perfectly inspectable. “I thought I recognized your name from somewhere,” he said to the screen—and to the photo of Kyosuke Ayana which adorned it.

Kyosuke Ayana. Seventeen years old at the time of death. Naturally, Minato recognized his face. After all, he had been one of the two co-leads of a production at a certain opera house in the year 2033; one Minato and his family had visited.

With another laugh, one that was more more hollow, Minato searched another name. This one came up as a 1 as well, but Minato didn't want to look inside. Instead, he looked down at the ring on his hand. “It's been a while, huh, Mom?” Despite himself, he grinned at it. After all, he wasn't bothered by this, was he? It was just part of this whole situation.

Having this piece of information made several facets of the situation begin to slot together in Minato's head. He wasn't sure who this 'Prince' was, aside from probably Emi Shinoe's half-brother, but that didn't feel important at the moment. No, he suddenly began to have _theories_. Such suppositions as theories, or fantasies, or anxious imaginings, were not things Minato liked to have, but the time called for them.

With a sudden wave of tiredness, Minato slumped over on the desk, holding his head in his hands. He gave another tired laugh, and then said, “What the hell...? You've gotta be kidding me.”

_I'm not scared._

“Heh... heh heh...” The chuckle beneath his breath became just a bit more frantic. When had he begun sweating? It wasn't as though he was doing anything strenuous. He'd just been reminded of—

_I'm not scared... I'm not scared, I'm not scared, I'm not scared!_

H u h ? Why was his heart beating so fast? Minato stood up, and then realized he was doing something he hadn't done in years; he was hyperventilating. “Huh?” he panted out. “No, uh, what...”

_I'm not scared I'm not scared I'm not scared I'm not scared I'm not scared I'm not scared I'm not scared_

No, get back to work, he urged himself. You're still looking for stuff. What about that other profile under Chapter 9? You need to look at that. Go, Minato. Push through. This is nothing! Why—why was everything in his vision getting so _bright_ but so _blurry_—

_I'M_

Here he was. Hiro Kokeyama, twenty-eight... said here he was a Kansai native, but Minato naturally didn't recognize the face of the dusty-haired boy he saw.

_NOT_

There was something interesting under his medical history... 'spinal ependymoma', huh? What was an ependymoma? And what did that even have to do with—

_ **SCARED OF YOU!** _

* * *

With the help of her new tool, it wasn't hard to find the information she wanted, so by the time Tsukihi heard Bella and Juri exiting the room above, she'd already found an article on the armed robbery. She scanned it carefully, being sure to take in all of the information she could. Here is what I would consider relevant—

On September 12th, 2036, this Kansai Super was accosted by a group of five armed robbers. Though not all of them were caught by the time of this article's writing, by the look of things, they appeared to be a group of young men, angered for their own reasons and deciding to protest what they considered injustice by robbing a supermarket. A hostage situation began in earnest, and during negotiations, one woman was gravely injured. The robbers fled after the brief exchange of gunfire, and each escaped—however, one was caught in the parking lot outside the supermarket, in a hand-to-hand altercation with an unnamed guest.

The woman's name was Emi Shinoe. The man who had been caught after his ill-fated escapade was a young man named Hiro Kokeyama, naturally.

With a heavy sigh, Tsukihi put down the article and turned her head to Park, as well as the two descending women. “I find it sad,” she said with a sigh, “what desperate people will find themselves doing.”

“I know that desperation all too well, I think,” Park said, rubbing the back of his head. “Truth be told, I, er—oh, Ms. Duke, Ms. Sonohara!” He started upon noticing them behind him. Bella waved. “How did it go?”

Though their discussion about Sachi was irrelevant, Bella and Juri did dutifully explain to the other two what had gone down in the trophy room. “I suppose that's good for us, then,” Tsukihi said, before continuing on in kind, catching them up.

“So, these fellas that're here now,” Bella said, pushing her finger against her temple again. “You think they might be the same folks?”

“Why would they be?” Juri asked, shrugging.

“If this _is_ some sort of recreation, though,” Tsukihi said, placing her hand on her chin, “then that tells us exactly how many enemies we're dealing with if we try to assault the supermarket.” She nodded to herself, and briefly cast a glance at Bella and Juri before either of them could notice. Had either of them been the ones to receive that second key? she wondered.

Four hands became eight, but true to the words of their captors, there was very little else to glean about this incident—apparently it really was as simple as this armed robbery. Most of the small talk that occurred was from Bella attempting to engage Park and tell him he was doing a good job. It seemed to Tsukihi that Park was the sort who needed someone else to tell him that, and that was unfortunate.

The sun was beginning to set by the time the door was knocked on. “It's unlocked,” Tsukihi called.

Wataru opened the door, and looked around, whistling. With his hands in his pockets, his gaze landed on an open window. “This place is surprisingly nice, huh?”

“Er, Ms. Sonohara, have you—?” Park began, and Juri frustratedly clapped the book she was looking at shut and shoved it back into the window. “Um. No?”

“No,” Juri said, groaning.

Finishing her own end and putting everything back in its place, Tsukihi turned to Wataru and walked toward him. “How did your end go?”

“We found a fair amount of stuff, but we weren't able to find the white-haired girl again,” Wataru answered, frowning. “Mai was really pushing herself, too—”

“Eh?!” That caught Bella's attention, and she zoomed right up, entering herself into the zone of conversation. “What happened to Mai, now?”

“She had a breakdown from the stress, I think,” Wataru said, crossing his arms, his frown deepening into a horseshoe curve. “Long story short, she did good, but she has to rest. Saori, Ryo, Dr. Kitachi, and the old man are taking care of her in their own ways.”

“Aoyama is?” Tsukihi asked.

“Turns out she's a med student,” Wataru said. He put one hand in his pocket. “She started taking it pretty seriously.”

“Could it be...?” Park murmured, taking off his hat and playing with it. “A genuine eccentric intellectual? E-er, I certainly hope Mai is alright, is... she taking visitors?”

“Park,” Wataru said in his most deadpan tone of voice.

“I'll pop my head in then. Yes,” Park responded. “I don't—”

“Don't wanna disappoint your biggest fan, right?” Bella giggled, clapping Park on the back. He turned bright red.

Perhaps, Tsukihi thought, they really were all trying to rally together around the central point of Mai Orihara. Was this the power of an Orihara—of Shizuku Orihara's daughter? (Well, Tsukihi didn't know that she was related to Shizuku specifically, but it seemed likely.) If there was a person who could unite all thirteen of them as allies, that could only be a good thing.

That person could never be Tsukihi. So, perhaps, she thought, it was a good thing that this girl was here. “Where's Minato?” Wataru asked.

“Ah,” Tsukihi said, being broken from her thoughts. “I suppose we should go fetch him, I'd expected him out by now.”

Bella and Park followed behind Tsukihi to climb up the stairs and enter the room. What Tsukihi had expected to find, no doubt, was Minato lazing about and laughing to himself at the computer as he did something or another.

“M-Minato?!” Park called out.

Finding the unflappable Minato Kuromatsu unconscious on the floor, covered in sweat, was not that at all. “Minato!” Tsukihi cried out, rushing over to him, with Park and Bella not long behind. Wataru and Juri could be heard climbing the stairs, too, at the sound of those calls. In his fall, Minato had banged his head a little, but he appeared alive, and was definitely breathing. “He's... fainted.”

“Well, why on earth did he do that?” Bella said, crouching down and wiping away his sweat. “Temperature's normal...”

“Maybe he's been pushing himself as well?” Park asked. “It can't be easy being so... himself all the time,” he said, with an awkward grasp at Minato's shoulders.

“What happened to the idiot?” Juri groaned, but her sarcasm turned to genuine concern when she saw the three of them bent around him. “Oh god, what happened to the idiot?!”

“Must you insult him?” Tsukihi asked, but funnily enough, at the sound of being called an idiot, Minato began to stir, his eyes twitching and a small groan coming out of his throat. “Minato! Are you alright?”

“Mmm... huh?” The bleary-eyed mechanic's eyes fluttered open to see five people crowding around him in concern. “Guys? Oh, uh... hey...”

“Everyone's collapsing today, huh?” Wataru asked. Juri looked away, doing her best not to show weakness.

“Is that what happened?” Minato murmured, sitting up a bit and rubbing his hair after Park awkwardly let go of his shoulders. “Man, I haven't fainted in a long time... that's wack.” In his sleepy state, he sounded surprisingly genuine. “Sorry.”

“Nearabout gave me a heart attack,” Bella said, with a sigh. “What happened?”

“Uh, the...” Minato mumbled. “The computer had... ugh, sorry, gimme a second...”

The group backed off and allowed Minato to sit up properly. He rubbed his head more thoroughly, then his eyes. “Geez, this was a nostalgia bomb,” he snorted. “Seriously, sorry.”

“You don't need to apologize more than once,” Tsukihi said, sighing.

“Well, if you say so,” Minato said, with a shrug that signaled he was getting his mojo back. “That computer had a database of people relevant to this whole Sinner Hunter thing, and a lot of 'em. Found some stuff... I think the Prince is Shinoe's half-brother? There were some other people, but I couldn't get into most of them... oh.” He fished the note out of one of his pockets. “Any of you know how to read this name? I can't make heads or tails of it. Oh, right, Bella, you're American, right?”

With a soft chuckle, Bella said, “What do you think, sweetheart?” She picked the note up, and froze. “Uh...”

“There were some other English names in there, too. 'Mabel'? And I think that other one was... 'Hunter'? And, uh...” He snapped his fingers. “Well, anyway, do you recognize those?” Minato asked.

Those two got Bella to flinch. “I mean, I do, but do—do we gotta talk about this _right now_?”

“Heh-heh, knew it.” Minato grinned, shooting a fingergun at her.

“Yeah, he's fine,” Juri said, levying him with a no-doubt disdainful stare behind her glasses, which made it much less effective.

Park, though, was peeking behind Bella. “'Oh... ji... man-di-a-su.' Ozymandias?” Bella started.

Five heads turned, stunned, to Park. “What did you even just say?” Wataru asked.

“Ozymandias. A Greek name for the pharaoh Ramses II,” Park explained, a serious look on his face. “The name is most commonly associated with a pair of related sonnets by Percy Bysshe Shelley.”

“So you're saying an Egyptian pharaoh is relevant here?” Juri snorted.

“No, I'm—” Park sputtered. “Y-you see, I'm just saying that maybe this person is named Ozymandias. It's not a... a horrible name. Odd, but not—well, at any rate, that's how I'd read this name. I frequently, you see, well, I think about the poem a lot, as I often find myself looking upon my works and... well, er. Despairing,” he concluded, with a bashful blush.

“I guess you _could_ read that Ozymandias, huh?” Bella said, looking at the name. “...Who the heck names their kid Ozymandias?” Nobody had an answer for her.

“I couldn't see any more about the guy, see, his was blocked off,” Minato said. “Well—uh, anyway, that's not important. There was some more about... uh, the incident where Shinoe's parents died—” Like a switch had been flipped, he began sweating some more. “Nope! Nope. I can't talk about that anymore today.”

“Trauma?” Tsukihi asked, with a raised eyebrow.

“Haha, I guess!” Minato said, with an awkwardly wide smile, but then it softened again. “Uh, just... gimme until tomorrow. Okay? Or... well, I've got one thing to explain anyway, I guess... maybe I should roll them both together? Just—it was a literal fire,” he said, with a serious, straight face. “Her father and stepmother died in an actual fire.”

There was a pause.

“That's unfortunate,” Park said.

“Yup, sure is,” Minato nodded.

* * *

As soon as they returned, Tsukihi leapt out of the jeep with no regard for what anyone else was doing, speed-walking at a rather shocking clip. “Where are you going?” Wataru asked.

“Off,” Tsukihi said, her hand absentmindedly going towards the keys in her pocket. “I need to check something.”

One, two, three floors upward. She briefly saw Zenji and Kenichiro on the lower floors, but did not stop to exchange pleasantries. To the left of the elevator, and then... yes, the second door from the left in this room.

The doorknob twisted with little resistance. The door was open. Tsukihi opened it just a crack, and peeked inside to ensure she would not imperil herself. Then, she opened the door, slipped in, and closed it again, turning the doorknob to ensure the door made as little noise as possible.

Within this room—was a world foreign to Tsukihi Itagaki.

Roses, batons. Glitter. Models of rabbits, birdcages with model doves. Were those top hats? And props for who knew what, spinning multi-piece boxes, locked-up buzzsaws. Hatches, fish cages with trick doors—this was the hideout, no doubt, of a _magician_.

That said, Tsukihi left. Both of these keys in her pocket were for doors on the other side. Nobody was on this floor, still, but she felt less worry in her heart about this. The next was the furthest right on the right half of the hall.

—Ah, she thought. This would be Ryo's, then. I should give him this. She closed the door, and politely filed this information out of her brain until he showed it to her. Then, there was the third door from the left in this room. She went to it, and—

—Ah. She could not help but speak her thought aloud. “Is this meant to be... a kindness?”

—Ah. And as she left the room, to go back downstairs—

“What is _that_ supposed to be?”

Of course. Naturally, she'd want to know. Anzu Itagaki, Tsukihi's daughter, would want to know. “It seems,” Tsukihi said to her very cross-looking daughter, “that each of these doors is for one of us. One of the keys we found at the library happened to be mine. It—”

“Bullshit.” When had Anzu gotten so close? “Give me that,” she snarled.

The object in question was a simple wooden guitar. There were marks on it from years of wear, but it still made sounds perfectly fine. “You can't even use it,” Tsukihi said.

“You don't _deserve_ it,” Anzu spat back.

With a small breath inward, Tsukihi's eyes closed. “Anzu,” she said. “This guitar's owner may have been your mother, but she was also my wife.”

“What should that matter?” Anzu scoffed. She shrugged sardonically, averting her gaze to make a retching noise. “Of course high and mighty Tsukihi Itagaki would just want to take that.”

“...It's not as though I'm taking it for myself exclusively,” Tsukihi said. Her foot tapped. “It'll be in our home just as normal once we return.”

“How do you even know that was _yours_, huh? Might've been mine,” Anzu said, putting her hands on her hips, at an angle to Tsukihi that made her appear darker against the light. “The mummy might've wanted it for—”

“No, Anzu,” Tsukihi said, sighing, “I can assure you this is mine. For the time being, I would like it. Please remember that I am the one of us who is capable of making _use_ of it.”

“You don't have the right,” Anzu said through gritted teeth.

_Snap_. That made something click in Tsukihi's mind. “I _know_,” she said, raising her voice more than she'd like, which got Anzu to stop. “You don't need... to remind me. I know I don't have the right to play this guitar... though I don't know why you don't think I do.”

Unfettered, Tsukihi stepped past Anzu, resulting in a conversation where neither faced the other. “You aren't the only person who misses Naomi,” Tsukihi said. “Am I not allowed to give myself some comfort in a situation like this?”

Surely, Anzu's fists balled as she growled. “Fuck you.”

“I'm assuming you'd rather not talk about this,” Tsukihi said. “As usual, then.”

“Yeah,” Anzu said. “Of course it's as usual. Why wouldn't it be?”

“Goodbye, then,” Tsukihi said. She began to step down. “I'll be on the beach, if you'd like to avoid it.”

A phrase Tsukihi had heard in the past was, 'absence makes the heart grow fonder.' Perhaps if it was just one of them that had been kidnapped, these issues of the relationship would've found a better way to express themselves upon their reuniting. But instead, here they both were. Incapable, as usual.

So, Tsukihi asked herself the same question she asked every day, these days. _Naomi... what am I supposed to do?_

* * *

I awoke from another nap to find Dr. Kitachi and Kenichiro in my room, this time. Dr. Kitachi had a tray of food. “Good evening,” she said, smiling, and it was an earnest smile.

Murmuring, I realized I must've slept with my glasses on if I could see the both of them. “What time is it?”

“Well, it's about 8:30,” Kenichiro said, grinning. “Took your sweet time, Sleeping Beauty.”

“Shut up, old man,” I said, sounding perhaps more dour than Zoe expected, as that got her to let out a little laugh. “You try it.”

“Gee, okay,” Kenichiro said, putting a hand on his chin and another on his hip. “I just need to dig up my old man's corpse so I can pretend I'm worrying him by investigating a crime scene!”

I blinked. “Wait, when did your dad die?”

“Ahh, two years ago now,” Kenichiro said, waving his hand dismissively. “Trouble with his arteries, but he was old anyway.” He shrugged. “It's the way of these things.”

“You two really are darling together,” Zoe said, suppressing a snort. Kenichiro sputtered. Zoe set the tray of food down on my nightstand, and said, “Please do eat that. We wouldn't want you passing out again.”

“Why, Dr. Kitachi,” Kenichiro said, “you almost sound like an actual doctor.”

“I _am_ an actual doctor,” Zoe said, levying a glare and a frown at him from across the bed. The locking of their eyes above my bed sent sparks in the air. “I might not be a physician, but I do have a doctorate.”

“Doctors, doctors,” Kenichiro said, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes. “Seems like everyone who calls themself 'Doctor' is actually a wacko.”

“I've never called _myself_ 'Dr. Kitachi', I'm just stating my profession in literal terms, _sir_,” Zoe said, and she huffed over and began very brutally pinching Kenichiro's cheek.

“Ow! Ow! Hey!” Kenichiro wailed. “Cheek-pinching is a big, ow, responsibility, ow! You gonna put an, ow, a ring on this?”

“Perhaps if Minato gives me back the ring he put on me earlier,” Zoe said, continuing to destroy Kenichiro's face with as little emotion as I'd ever seen on her face.

This all got me to burst into a fit of giggles, though not as heavy as I could've done had I been feeling better. “Well I'm, ow, glad you're, ow, _fuck_!” Kenichiro whined.

“I'll leave you two to it, then,” Zoe said, letting go of Kenichiro's cheek and allowing him to pant heavily as she gave me a gentle smile and turned to leave. Before she did, though, she turned around again. “Ah, I should let you know. Minato also collapsed on their end, so we've collectively decided to wait until tomorrow morning to collate our information and decide on a plan.”

“What is everyone doing?” I asked.

“Well, let's see,” Zoe said, putting her hands on her hips. “Of course, you, I, and Mr. Washizu are in here.” Three, I counted. “Mr. Park was rather concerned about you, but given that you were asleep, he's been roped into Juri forcing Wataru and Bella to sit down and watch something or another with her.” Seven. “Minato is sleeping, or at least he had better be.” Eight. “Anzu is making an awful racket from her room, and I pity her mother.” Nine. “Saori eats very slowly, and Zenji has stayed behind to ensure she doesn't choke, but once that finishes Saori seemed very enthused about joining in.” Eleven. “As for Mrs. Itagaki and Ryo, I'm not actually sure.”

“Thank you, Sensei,” I said, smiling and folding my hands together. “I'll be sure to let them know I'm alright, then.”

“I'll be turning in for the night,” Zoe said. “I've got some painting to do before then, though, so do knock if you need anything. Goodnight.” And with that she left the room.

“Yeesh, that one's awful,” Kenichiro said, rubbing his cheek. “How do you get along with all these assholes?”

“I think this says more about you than about me, Kenichiro,” I snorted.

“Yeah, yeah, you're just so sparkly and good at things,” Kenichiro said, pursing his lips in some sort of duck face and rolling his eyes. Then, he grew surprisingly serious. “Hey.”

“It won't happen again, I swear,” I said. I gave him a gentle, earnest smile, and laughed. “Really. I honestly do feel better now.”

“You're not lying this time?” Kenichiro asked, and that got me to flinch. “See?”

“No, I'm actually not, it's just...” I sighed. “That hurts, Kenichiro.”

“Ahh, you know I'm just ribbing you,” Kenichiro said, grinning.

“That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt to think that I worried you,” I said. I looked down at my hands. “Seven years away and I'm already worrying you again... Well, you are a worrywart, Kenichiro.”

“Gasp!” Kenichiro... gasped, putting his hand on his heart. “I am no such thing! You must be thinking of my twin brother, Kenjiro.”

“Ah, yes, and when I run into you in another seven years, you'll tell me that this you was Kensaburo, right?” I said, grinning.

“Yeah, you get me!” Kenichiro said.

There was a moment of silence, and then Kenichiro sighed, raising his hands and levying with me. “Look, if you're seriously alright now, then fine, I won't stop you, but just... don't put yourself in danger if you don't have to. You're one of the youngest people here, and you're... you're not that tough. Let the adults handle things.”

“Kenichiro...” I said.

And then, I was treated to a smile from Kenichiro. “Yuki,” he said, “if you're gonna call me your dad, at least let me act like a dad.”

I couldn't help myself at that. I gave another little giggle. “It... still feels nice to hear you call me that again.”

“God, you're cute,” Kenichiro said, and he stood up and ruffled my hair. It put my glasses a bit askew. “Should be illegal or something.” Then he waved his hand, and turned to leave. “Well, I'm gonna think about hitting the hay myself. Night, kiddo.”

“Kenichiro?” I asked.

“Yeah?” he responded.

“I—” Then I cut myself off, and hesitated. “Thank you. Goodnight.”

“Yeah.” And then he was gone.

* * *

I popped my head into the AV room on the second floor, and as expected, there were six people in there, mingling. “So wait,” Wataru said, “so does he not know that his dad—?” He was gesturing at the screen.

“Haha, nope!” Juri grinned.

“Whoa,” Wataru said, with a wide-eyed expression.

“Look, it's just so they can have a heartfelt reunion later,” Zenji scoffed, his arms wide on the sofa. Saori was nuzzled into one side of him like a cat. “I know how these things work.”

“His dad got _blown into the vacuum of space without a suit_,” Wataru replied, giving him a dumbfounded stare.

“Even if he was rescued,” Saori said, suddenly popping up out of Zenji's side, “that would likely cause significant brain damage.”

“It's anime, idiots,” Zenji said, shaking his head. Juri cackled.

Park and Bella, meanwhile, were chatting to the side—not that they weren't paying attention, but they had found a topic of conversation. “Favorite Precure,” Park said, raising a finger.

“Series or—?” Bella started.

“Individual Precure,” Park said. He looked bafflingly serious. “Whole franchise.”

“Cure Infini,” Bella responded, with a sage nod.

“Ohhh!” Park said, his eyes wide. “A very respectable choice!”

Juri peeked her head over from the side and said, “Yeah, that's Achtzehn-certified Good Taste, trademark.”

“Did she—” Zenji started, but then he stopped halfway through and snorted. “Whatever.”

Feeling rather awkward, I cleared my throat once, but it was a very quiet noise that didn't quite reach the din of the room. I tried a second time, and a third, but nothing. Damn my quiet presence. This called for a different tack, so I shifted the way I stood, placing my knuckles against my hip and pushing my hips forward slightly.

Stepping forward, I slammed my foot into the couch just to the side of Zenji's ponytail. This particular set of motions best called for pockets, but my backup involved now crossing my arms. Either way, pushing up my glasses, I said, “I have something to say.” I'm told that my vocal range is quite impressive, so I'm sure hearing me shout in a loud, carrying, deep tone was something of a shock.

There was quiet. Juri paused the TV.

Very quickly, I returned to my regular posture, and chuckled, having just realized what I'd just done. “I'm, er, very sorry, everyone,” I said. “Kitachi-_sensei_ said—”

“Mai!” Park breathed a sigh of relief, one that heaved his chest. “Oh, thank goodness.”

Simultaneously, Bella stood up and huffed. “Speakin' of people who nearabout gave me a heart attack! You know how worried I was, girl?”

Also at the same time, Saori smiled and said, “You left another glass of water on your dresser.”

Zenji, though, grimaced, and looked away. “Hey,” he said. “Uh... yeah.”

From the couch, Juri leaned her head over the back to barely look at me over the bend of her neck. “You want in? I can scoot.”

“No, no,” I shook my head. “Thank you, Juri-_san_, but I shouldn't.”

“The ravages of war would be bad for her health,” Saori said, nodding her head in agreement.

Zenji looked at her like she was crazy. “It's _anime_.”

“Haha, no, I believe she means the, er, social war!” Park said. He smiled. “Watching television with six people in the same room is a war in and of itself!”

“Thanks for letting us know,” Wataru said, and raised a hand. “Take it easy.”

* * *

Anzu's door did in fact have a racket coming from it, and she didn't respond to any knocking. Curious as to Tsukihi and Ryo's locations, I headed outside to the beach at nighttime.

The moon hung high over the beach, reflecting an entirely different sort of light over the water. The sand, the grass, the flowers, everything looked different at night. I'm sure even I looked different, cast in the blue shine of the moon.

“_I wonder if... I'm alone?_”

Out of the corner of my ear, I heard something.

“_Wonder who might be outside..._”

It was a rich, soulful female voice, over the sound of light guitar strums. I hadn't expected to hear anything like that over the soft sound of the waves, but as I walked forward, I saw their source.

“_I don't want to raise my eyes..._” Tsukihi sang, strumming away at her guitar, out towards the ocean. Ryo sat next to her, the two of them seated on the sand as though they hadn't a care in the world. “_All small, folded up tight..._”

As I stepped forward, unfortunately, Tsukihi noticed me, and stopped in her tracks to turn around to look at me. Ryo did, too. “Ah, you're awake,” Tsukihi said.

“Itagaki-_san_,” I nodded. “Ryo.”

“Hi,” Ryo said. He was smiling.

I walked up and sat beside the two of them, curling up on the sand myself. It was rough, yes, but I managed to get situated. “You play guitar?” I asked.

“Yes,” Tsukihi said. “It's a good stress reliever.”

“Oh, I see,” I said, and all was quiet for another few moments.

“Mai, I had a question for you,” Tsukihi said. “The rooms on the upper floor. Did you get a key?”

“Eh—?” My breath hitched for a moment. Ryo looked rather confused, but I saw a key in his pocket, too. “Oh... you saw the room up there.”

“I did,” Tsukihi said. “It didn't seem to have anything particularly incriminating in it. Why did you hide it?”

I paused to gather my thoughts before saying, “I'm sorry. I... I thought I might look suspicious if everyone knew I had gotten a key and they hadn't.” I looked down toward the sand.

Ryo shook his head, then. “You're not suspicious.”

Smiling, I reached over to ruffle Ryo's hair, and idly realized that I must've gotten that from Kenichiro. “Thank you, Ryo.”

“Mai Orihara,” Tsukihi said. “I heard what happened in some detail, and I recognize it is a sore point, I do have one question, if that's alright.”

Everything was quiet once more as I took a moment to think. “Yes?”

“Your mother, Shizuku,” Tsukihi said. “I already knew her, I wasn't informed, so we're clear. Do you...” She paused. “...resent her?”

I listened to the waves as I pondered that question. Years' worth of memories flashed inside my mind as I did. Years, and years... I had yet to understand why Tsukihi would ask that question, and surely she could not know exactly what course my life had taken. Yet, she had asked the question, and I answered honestly.

“Itagaki-_san_... I don't know,” I said. I sadly shook my head. “My mother and I are... very different people... I think.”

“I see,” Tsukihi said, and we were quiet once more. Ryo huddled into his coat when a cold breeze went by.

“What was that song you were playing?” I asked.

“Ah, that?” Tsukihi said, and in just that moment I swore I heard a twitch of pride in the little smirk she gave. “It's an old favorite of mine. Ryo wanted to listen.”

With the look that told me he had practiced this in case anyone asked, Ryo said, “I... didn't want her to be alone.”

I smiled and said, “Could you keep playing? I'd love to hear.”

Tsukihi gave me a nod. “Of course.”

I'm not sure how long I sat there listening to Tsukihi play her guitar. Ryo and I leaned close in to each other to keep warm against the nighttime breeze, and I felt his small arm around my waist. Tsukihi just kept singing, and playing, entertaining these two children she barely knew by pouring out some of her soul.

Tomorrow would mark the third day we were here. But, suddenly, sitting here on this beach... I felt as though I could make an effort to keep going. I whispered a small 'thank you', but it was drowned out by the waves before it could reach anyone's ears. Perhaps that was alright, though. Perhaps my thanks were just as much for the ocean as for anyone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since I called on you like this, hasn't it? Though it isn't as though it'll be unveiled immediately, perhaps by this point you can decipher Nagisa's first puzzle. Who is the Prince, and what truly happened behind the scenes of the Ninth Report to result in Emi Shinoe's injury?


	12. Welcome to Sinner Hunter, 8 ~ "Sta nel male, il peccato"

When I awoke, I was in my room, and immediately noticed something off—Ryo was in there with me, his eyes just opening as well. The sunlight glinted off of his eyes in an awfully pretty way. I thought to myself that, when and if he ever got a bit manlier, perhaps he might become a real ladykiller; those eyes could be a useful sort of fetching.

Then I pretended I hadn't thought that, stirred some more, and said, “Ryo?”

“Mm,” he said, and rubbed his eyes. Neither of us had changed out of our clothes from yesterday, and he even slept with his beanie on. “Good morning.”

“Do you know... how we got in here?” I murmured, beginning to sit up. “Did Itagaki-_san_ do that?” Ryo nodded. “And she put you in my bed?”

“I asked,” Ryo said. “Didn't...” He yawned. “Anemone...”

“You didn't want to leave me alone,” I offered, and that got him to nod again. “That's sweet, Ryo.” I smiled, standing up out of bed.

Once the two of us had properly awoken, we sat on the edge of the bed again, and he held his hand over mine. I used the hairbrush I'd been provided to brush his hair as well, as I didn't think he was particularly good at that. Sure enough, it was quite tangled, and I had to gently soothe him as I did it—I knew how tangles felt in the hair. Somehow, that bush of hair he had didn't seem to grow any less bushy, though.

“What do you think of the people around here, Ryo?” I asked.

That was a tough question for Ryo, I could tell, as he pointed his head down and frowned. He made a few mumbling noises, and then said, “You?”

“Me?” I asked, and he nodded. “Well... Wataru seems reasonable. Level-headed, reliable... he might turn out to be a good ally. But, well...” I trailed off, and it took me a few moments to continue. “Can you not find the word?”

“Striped carnation,” he said, nodding. He murmured... “Um, wait, okay...” He put up his right hand and did a talking gesture. “'We've been kidnapped,'” his right hand said to him, but just then, his left hand blocked it with a shout of, “Yellow carnation!”

“Oh!” I said, pounding my fist into my open palm. “'Denial'?”

Ryo beamed. “Yes!”

Denial, hm? I thought about that for a second. A shared delusion that things were alright, or would be fixed soon? Denial of aspects of ourselves? “Wataru seems reasonable,” I repeated.

Ryo nodded again. “Mm. Wataru's good,” he said.

“Am I...” The thought intruded into my thought process, and I leaned over and clutched my head. “...an evil person?”

Fervently shaking his head, Ryo shouted, “No!”

_Remember, you asked for this._

And just for a second,

the _roiling chaos_ barely contained within my mind

came lashing out and destroyed my thoughts

leaving me a hollow, shattered mess.

“Haha... hahaha, hahahahahaha...”

It wasn't a joyful laugh by any means. It was the mad laugh of a broken person.

And even when I stopped laughing with my throat the laughter just kept going and going and going and going and going and going and going and going and going and

A memory of a time in my apartment. “Isn't it okay...” Mai said, looking away from me, holding her hands behind her back. “...to be a bad person if it's to survive?”

_No, of course not_. And Mai would never say that. Don't lie to me. Mai, you wouldn't say that, right? Mai, you wouldn't say that. You're a sweet girl who wouldn't hurt a fly.

“If we want to survive, don't we sometimes need to do things that benefit ourselves?” Mai said, turning her head over her shoulder with a serious look.

Don't lie to me. Mai, you wouldn't say that. Mai wouldn't say that. I must be misremembering. I—

“Are you really _this useless_ without that old hunk of wood?”

Denial... huh? Denial... maybe

“Is everyone here...” I said, laying back on my bed. “...like me?”

* * *

The two of us were last to breakfast.“Oh, er, good morning, Mai, Ryo,” Park said, nodding in greeting. “We were, er...”

“We're strategizing,” Saori said, steepling her hands and looking about as serious as she could with her eternally flat face.

One noticeable thing was that, while obviously people changed clothes each day, Bella had opted for a more serious change in look. She still wore the pink cardigan, but now under it she had a sleeveless red blouse, tight-fit white pants, and white shoes. I could see the handgun in a holster on her waist. “Howdy!” Bella said, smiling.

“Feeling more action-oriented today, Bella?” I asked, smiling, and she gave me a thumbs up. “Is this about the supermarket?”

Tsukihi, who appeared to be leading discussion as usual, nodded. “Aside from this Sinner Hunter business, it's a simple fact that we don't have infinite supplies in this mansion. If that supermarket has anything at all of genuine worth inside, we need to take it back.”

Saori's incomplete map was in the center of the table, and Minato and Anzu appeared to be finishing out some adjustments, such as the perimeter of the area, and... “There's a door in the back,” Anzu explained to me. “Probably to some kind of storage area. Might have something important in it.”

Rough markers of where each of the five robbers appeared to stalk based on the first excursion inward were placed, as well. “So this is a siege plan,” I said.

“Essentially, yes,” Tsukihi answered.

“Incapacitating them, of course,” I said.

“I make no promises,” Tsukihi said back, and I nodded and took that as a final answer.

Anzu was my next target. “You're being oddly cooperative,” I said with a sly smile. She just scoffed in response.

“Listen, I'm not stupid,” Anzu said. She frowned. “It's not like I'm not going to cooperate here, this is important. I get hungry like anyone else.”

“Hi,” Ryo said, smiling, and Anzu looked away, unable to return his gaze.

“Guess she can't sass Ryo,” Juri said, snorting. “To be fair, who could? I couldn't. Could anyone?”

“If you ask that, that means someone's gonna be able to somewhere,” Zenji said, combing out his ponytail in preparation.

Seeing Kenichiro rev up, I said, “You couldn't do it in a million years, Kenichiro.”

“Oh, come on!” Kenichiro said. He was practicing his swing with a baseball bat in the corner.

“It's almost like we're about to go out hunting,” Wataru said, with a wistful smile towards the map. “Are we living the hunter-gatherer life now?”

“Who volunteers as first tribute if we need to go cannibal?” Juri asked, and I'm going to be frank when I say far too many people almost raised their hands when she asked that.

“It'll be Washizu,” Tsukihi decreed, and Kenichiro sputtered.

“Hey, if we're living that caveman style, I know how to fish with the best of 'em,” Kenichiro said, turning around and pointing his nose up toward Tsukihi. “I'm an important man with important skills.”

“Please,” said Zoe, who was over making preparations and packing emergency supplies, unsurprisingly. “Cannibalism is a last resort, if that. We have an entire supermarket at our disposal for thirteen people, should this go well.”

“Have you ever eaten someone?” Saori asked Zoe, and that got a number of people to sputter.

“No, I haven't,” Zoe said. She hefted a heavy backpack on her back. “I don't plan to, either, unless you count biting Zenji and Anzu's ears off if they try to run off again.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Zenji snorted.

“See if _you_ can catch me,” Anzu scoffed.

Apparently, an information catchup on what each group had found out up until now had already occurred, and Wataru kindly handed me and Ryo notes on what that information was that we had missed. It didn't take long for my breath to hitch. “Shinoe-_san_'s parents died in... a fire ten years ago...?” I looked up at Wataru. The significance seemed to be lost on Ryo.

Wataru nodded in response. “Minato wouldn't go into any more _detail_”—and he briefly cocked his head towards Minato, who gave a cheeky OK sign—“because he wants to 'condense his exposition', but apparently it was one he was in, too.” He looked at me. “Why?”

He was asking as a courtesy, I'm sure, considering the look on my face. “Eh? ..._Condense_?” I raised my eyebrow. “What does that mean?”

“Well, if I'm already expositing on one thing—” Minato said, then cut himself off when he saw the look on my face. “Hey, what's wrong?”

What I _wanted_ to say was, 'you must think I'm really stupid.' All of a sudden, I felt astonishingly annoyed by Minato Kuromatsu. When I said 'a fire', though, I noticed a great deal of unease across the room from, essentially, everyone but Ryo.

My hand clenched on my hip. “Minato-_san_... that's not a good thing,” I said, my voice a bit harsher than I intended. “Are you taking this seriously at all?”

“Hey, listen, it's hard for me, okay?” Minato said, wringing his hands. “Come on—”

“Do you think you're unique in suffering?” I asked. The disdainful sneer on my face seemed to come as quite a shock to him as I inched closer to him. “Do you really, honestly think you're unique?” No, wait, I thought... what was I even doing? This wasn't right, was it? No, this wasn't me. This wasn't how Mai acted, and it's not how I acted when I was Mai.

“M-Mai?” Minato blinked, and everyone appeared to have stopped working at my sudden shift in attitude.

“We can't just ignore an elephant in the room at your convenience,” I said. I put my knuckles on my hip. “Emi Shinoe's parents died in a fire ten years ago. That's the same year Kyosuke Ayana died. Am I supposed to think that's a coincidence?”

“I—” Minato started, and it was then that I first noticed a certain tic of his. Minato held his right side when he felt conflicted and unwilling to speak.

“You looked for Kyosuke Ayana in that database, right?” I asked, and the flinch Minato gave me was confirmation enough. “Alright. Then who is he?”

“...What the hell?” Kenichiro said, muttering with his eyes wide from his corner.

“He's—” Minato sputtered. “Well, I mean, I never met the guy personally, but—”

“Minato,” Ryo said, speaking up, with an earnest look. “I... I want... to know, too.”

“...He's an opera singer,” Minato said, with a low tone to his voice. “Was. An opera singer.”

“So he was present for the Opera House Massacre,” I said, pushing my glasses up, “is what you're saying.”

_Crack_. It was as though I'd suddenly shattered a one-way mirror blocking the central issue here. The room went silent, and the air inside was palpable.

“And so were you,” I said.

Minato looked away, gritting his teeth. “I mean... yeah...”

“And so was the Prince,” I said.

“That... would seem accurate, yes,” Tsukihi said.

“And so was _I_,” I said, and that definitely got the room to react. Zenji's eyes went wide, Bella gripped the table, and so on. “My birth parents died in that fire. And so was Kenichiro—that was where we first met.”

“You've gotta be _kidding _me,” Kenichiro said, with a look of bafflement.

After a moment of silence, it was Saori who raised her hand. “I... don't remember it,” she said, twiddling with a lock of her hair, “but...”

“...my family was there, as well,” Tsukihi offered. Anzu held her head in her hands and ran her fingers through her hair.

“I... yes,” Park said, nodding.

With a sad gaze at the table, Bella nodded and said, “Yeah, I was there, alright.”

“And, let's not forget,” I said, turning my head to a certain singer who'd just finished combing his ponytail, “that there's a musician here who's familiar with Kyosuke Ayana's older sister.”

Zenji gritted his teeth. “I—”

“Because, and we can draw this conclusion fairly easily with this information,” I said, finally sitting down in my chair, “he was one of the co-leads in a production of _The Tragedy of Ulrich and Royston_, as the eponymous Prince Ulrich along with Kyosuke Ayana's Prince Royston.”

Eyes turned to Zenji, and after a few pained jerks of the face and of the arms, he sighed and slumped in his chair. “Yeah... uh-huh.”

“So that's why you looked like an Ulrich!” Juri said, and then clapped her hands over her mouth when she realized she'd essentially just confirmed she was also there.

“Yeah, that'd do it, huh,” Wataru sighed. “I figured that was it.”

Zoe's twitch had gone from resting to wrenching her mouth into an uncomfortable, grimacing half-smile. “...I... had a feeling, too, to be honest.”

“Um...” Ryo trailed off, and then looked down awkwardly.

“...You would've been too young to remember, huh?” Zenji said, crossing his arms. “Twelve out of thirteen means you were probably there, though... even if I don't recognize you.”

“Man,” Wataru chuckled, “you were a lot prettier back then.”

“Shut up,” Zenji scoffed.

“Er, should we...” Park sweated, twisting his cap as though it was wet and he were trying to get the water out of it. “Is this... really something we should be explaining to Ryo?”

“If he needs to know, then he'll find out eventually,” Wataru said, with a shrug. “Who wants to do the honors?”

All of a sudden, Minato started up. “Sorry... I'm—I'm sorry, guys, I. Look, I'll do it, okay? I just... I'm sorry.” He was crying, with one arm dangling to his side and one fist on the table. “I...” He took a breath to steady himself.

“No, it's fine,” Wataru said, raising a hand to Minato. “I'll start. I've made my peace with these things.”

“You sure, man?” Minato said, his eyes wide in wet... admiration, perhaps?

Wataru took a breath inward, and started to speak.

* * *

“It was ten years ago, in July, 2033. I was fourteen at the time, myself. Narcissus Opera House, in Tokyo, was showing this famous opera from the 19th century. I got dragged along because my mom was a huge freak for those kinds of things. It wasn't _too_ big an opera house—” Wataru began to make scale with his hands for Ryo's sake. “—but it was still pretty big.”

“Maximum seating capacity, eight hundred and forty-three patrons,” Zenji added. “Plus the staff. There were a pretty solid number of us, so I'd put the exact number somewhere around nine forty.”

“I seem to remember it was a rather star-studded cast,” Park said, rubbing his chin. “Both of the stars were promising newcomers, though.”

Zenji scoffed, raising his hand to block this compliment. “I was probably a few months away from becoming obsolete. But, still, Park's right, and so the place was _packed_. It was the biggest crowd I'd ever performed to. Kyosuke—he was all bright and chipper, so proud to be performing for all these people. I thought it was ridiculous, but... well, someone important was there, so I was gonna give it my best, too.”

“Yeah, it was a pretty full house,” Juri nodded. “I remember being really sandwiched, because we couldn't afford the nicer seating, but I've gotten used to that over the years, honestly.”

“Aha, I was on the end of a row...” Park chuckled. “I was alone, you see.”

“_The Tragedy of Ulrich and Royston_ is a two-act play,” Wataru continued. “To make a long story short, it's about a pair of brother princes who are torn apart by conspiracy and forced to kill each other in the end.”

“Run time three and a half hours, roughly, with a half-hour intermission in the middle,” Zenji said. “So, about four hours. It started at 5:02 P.M, two minutes late, because one of the techs had a bit of a mishap.”

“Ohhh, is that why?” Bella blinked.

“You have a surprisingly detailed memory for these things,” Tsukihi said, looking dourly down at her lap.

“Listen, opera is my life. I didn't get to where I am now by being inattentive,” Zenji scoffed. He did his best to flip his hair, but his ponytail was very heavy.

“Nothing strange happened for the first act,” Wataru said. “Everything seemed like it was normal. I actually barely even noticed something was wrong until everything was in full swing, but...”

“I still remember it,” Zenji said, sighing. “I was on stage at the time, because it was one of my scenes in the second act. I was giving an aside to the crowd and then all of a sudden, this woman somewhere in the crowd stands up. She looks kind of dazed, and the people next to her look kind of confused until...”

At this point, Zenji breathed in through his teeth, and said, “She... ripped one of the arm rests off of her chair... and smashed it into the person in front of her's head.”

Ryo gasped, covering his ears with his hands. “What?!”

“I was in a daze, and for a second I wasn't even sure I'd really seen it, even though I saw the guy's head bleeding,” Zenji said, “so I kept performing. I was in the middle of a fight with some other people, playing some of the antagonist's goons, when all of a sudden, one of them takes the prop sword in their hand, and—”

Gritting his teeth, Ryo took in the sudden silence. “What... did he...”

“He took that sword and just missed Zenji, I think,” Minato said, his voice hollow, “and it hit the other guy next to him, and it _cut_, it got covered in blood, and it... he just sort of... kept swinging.”

“I didn't know what to do,” Zenji said, his eyes widening as though he was back there. “He was already dead by the time I stopped being stunned, and then I realized that there was noise coming from the crowd.”

“The whole time,” Tsukihi said, “people had begun to follow in the first woman's footsteps. People suddenly seemed to be losing all rational thought, wildly attacking anyone near them, and corpses began to fall. They couldn't be reasoned with, they—”

“My mom,” Minato chuckled, “hit me in the side with a nightstick from the guy behind her,” and that got a few gasps.

“People from backstage started coming out to see what was going on,” Zenji said, “but that just added to the chaos because some of them started flipping out, too.”

“Everyone kept...” Anzu was holding her arms and hugging herself. “...everyone kept _screaming_, and I got blood splashed on my face...”

“A few people must've gotten away,” Zenji said, “but not fast enough to call the authorities before...”

“The fire broke out,” I said. “Midway through the chaos, a fire began to rage.”

“F—” Saori began shivering.

“More of the casualties were probably from the fire than actual murder,” Kenichiro said, “but it was like the world had gone insane. I saw people beating each other to death even as they burned to death themselves, families tearing each other apart—”

“My father killed my mother,” I said, my glasses foggy, “and then died by being crushed under the rubble.”

“Nobody could survive long enough to call the authorities from inside,” Zoe said, “so when the authorities were called, they had to stop halfway to get fire patrol on the scene because those who'd escaped had done so before the fire.” She kept twitching, covering that half of her face to try and stop it.

“Structurally, the place was kind of old,” Zenji said, cracking his knuckles, “and it wasn't held together properly for fires of that size, so it started falling apart, too. I got out before the absolute worst of it, but...”

“I...” Juri started, and everyone turned their heads to her. She held her head in her hands. “They... I got... I got buried, and... and they...”

“Oh, I heard they dug up a teenager from out under the rubble after the fire died down,” Kenichiro said. He cocked an eyebrow. “That was you, huh? Sorry I didn't find you instead,” he snorted.

“What?” Juri blinked away tears, not that anyone could see that behind her glasses.

“I was digging through the rubble because I heard calls for help,” Kenichiro said. His face was affixed in a dour frown. “A lot of them were dead already, but—”

“Kenichiro dug me out of the burning rubble,” I said, with a sad, but fond look toward him. “That was when I met him.”

“Heh...” Minato sniffled. “Guess you're not so shady after all, huh, old guy?”

“Shut up,” Kenichiro said, gritting his teeth, but then he sighed. “I got a report from an old friend in the fire department after the fact. The final death toll was seven hundred and sixty two people out of a total of nine hundred and twenty-eight people present in the building. Some people were so badly mauled they were barely recognizable, but since it was a public event and security cameras didn't get completely fried, they were able to at least identify all the victims.”

“It all happened basically within two hours,” Wataru said, “but it was the worst night of my life.” He let out a long, deep sigh.

“The lot,” Tsukihi said, “is still condemned, taken into the government's ownership. No explanation has ever been given for the incident.”

“Anything else?” Bella asked. “Sorry I couldn't be much help... I ain't too good at these sortsa things.”

“Nah, I think that's good.” Minato put on a grin to try and save face.

* * *

“So basically, you're saying...” Juri said, taking a couple of breaths in and out once everyone had taken a moment to digest, “The mummy lady's been kidnapping people who are all survivors from back then?”

“It seems like it,” Wataru said.

I stood with an apologetic bow and said, “I'm very sorry for being harsh, everyone. However, I simply couldn't let this stand any longer—it was sitting very badly with me.”

“Well, it, er...” Park said, stammering a few times before he continued, “It seems as though your experience was particularly traumatic, so it's, you know, it's quite... understandable, and. You know, it.”

I leaned over to Ryo and began to do my best to soothe him. “It's alright, Ryo. You don't need to worry. Nothing like that is going to happen anymore.”

Ryo shook his head, and finally took his hands off of his ears. His brass earplugs once again glinted in the light. “...horrible...”

“Thank you, Ryo. Thank you, everyone,” I said. “Now... I don't think there's anything stopping us from going, is there? Let's sortie.”

“Wait, wha—?!” Bella sputtered, throwing her arms back.

“What?!” Anzu grimaced.

“I was harsh only because I believe we are all comrades,” I said. I put my hands on my chest. “Knowing we all share this experience which we needed to keep inside, perhaps we might work together better, is what I thought. After all”—and I looked at Bella, Juri, Wataru, and Park—“those of you who learned before me seemed desperate for companionship last night.” Juri flinched away.

“...Oh.” Saori recovered, and nodded slowly. “Is that why we were watching anime...?”

“I'm not wrong, am I, Kitachi-_sensei_?” I tilted my head to ask the professional and her heavy backpack.

“Well, er, that is...” Zoe's blush told me she was a bit flustered to be called on. “I would imagine so, though that _was_ a bit of a harsh way to go about it...”

“Then, everyone,” I said, with a smile, “please, let's all work together, and be allies, at least. Not just for this, but from now on until we escape.”

A low chuckle came from Tsukihi, whose eyes were closed, her face in a grin I couldn't quite decipher. “So that's it?”

“I'm game,” Wataru said. He had a smile on his face, too, a bright, wide one.

“Ugh, geez,” Juri said, and only I could tell that she was averting her eyes. “Quit tripping death flags.”

“I may do many things, Juri-_san_, but I do not trip,” I said. My smile was prouder than I'd like to admit. “If I do, I do so intentionally.”

Anzu, no doubt, noticed that my gaze was rather concentrated on her, no matter how I tried to hide it. “...You can keep believing that if you want, I guess.”

“That she doesn't trip?” Saori asked. “Is this because you want to catch her when she falls?” Anzu gave her a withering glare.

“Now, this is the good stuff!” Minato laughed. He stood up, too, clapping excitedly. “You had me worried there for a minute!”

“You can worry?” Zenji snorted.

“I know, I'm shocked too!” Minato said, his eyes wide.

Please forgive me for not transcribing this series of noises, but Bella and Park were clutching their hands together and sobbing mutually about the power of friendship or something. This caused Zenji to look toward the camera and say, once again, “Get a load of these guys.”

Turning his head to me, Ryo smiled, though he was still clearly rather shaken by the discussion of that awful night ten years ago, and whispered a small, “Good job.”

Returning his smile, I whispered to him, “I'm gonna be honest, I have no idea what I just did or how I did it, I kind of just went with the flow.”

“Man, you've gotten scary, kid,” Kenichiro said, joining the whisper huddle.

“I agree!” I whisper-shouted, my eyes wide. “I'm a frightening person!”

* * *

A few moments later, once the plan got back into the swing of things, I excused myself to the restroom. My still-cracked mirror stared back at me as I returned to my room, which was conveniently the closest to the dining room. So, I went into my restroom, faced the toilet

and I **vomited everything I had just eaten**.

Did I do a good job? Did I do a good job? Are they going to stay friends? I gripped the edge of the sink, sweat roaring onto my body once again. Can we please be friends? I don't want to be alone. I don't want to be alone. I collapsed to my knees. Please don't fight. I need them not to fight. Please don't fight. I can't handle it if you fight. I need everyone to trust me. I'm scared. I'm scared. I'm scared I'm scared I'm scared I'm scared I'm scared please I can't be the adult in the room please please I can't I can't do it I don't want to be alone I don't want to be alone I don't want to be alone I don't

“Remember, you asked for it.”

I looked up at the mirror and saw only myself in it, my glasses barely still on my face. But was it really my face? Was this really my face? How did I know that this was really my face if I said words that did not make sense and did not sound like they were mine? Was this my body? Were these my thoughts?

Stumbling over to my bed, I began to scream into my pillow, horrible, retching screams that tore at my throat. No matter how much I pretended, everything kept getting worse again, over and over. How did I know anything wasn't just a lie? Perhaps they were all putting on an elaborate performance each time I entered the room, and they were at each others' throats the instant I wasn't. Surely that was more likely than the idea that everyone here was so fundamentally broken that they, like me, longed for companionship in a time like this. I didn't

I couldn't

Or maybe every single one of them was also screaming to themselves, losing their minds each time everyone else's eyes left them. Perhaps we were all just pretending. Just like me. Maybe they really were just like me.

Except... no. There was one person here who wasn't, who I knew wasn't. But could I really trust in that? Was one person enough? Even if I tried to make everyone believe in me, could I believe in myself by believing in that single person I had faith in to be strong here?

I retched one more time into my toilet. “God,” I choked, “I wish I was _dead._”

Everything was going to crumble again no matter what I did as long as I couldn't keep it together and I couldn't keep it together as long as I couldn't keep it together as long as I couldn't keep it together as long as I couldn't keep it together

—No. No, cut that out. “Cut that out,” I said to myself in the mirror. “Quit that talk. You're going to survive. You're going to survive. I'm going to survive.”

Survival was what was most important right now. I needed to survive, so I put everyone's trauma out in the open so we could all share in it. It might seem cruel, but it benefits everyone in the long run. Me, and everyone else.

I am an Orihara, I said to myself in the mirror. Oriharas do not back down. I'm going to survive by working together with these other survivors of that horrible night. _I'm _**going** to survive.

With that said, I left my room, and returned, hiding my determination with a smile for my allies.

* * *

Here is the plan for the siege of Kansai Super, as laid out by our group.

Our initial vanguard would be Kenichiro, Zenji, and Bella, heading to the middle of the store, which was our group's furthest point last time. They would engage the opponents there in the best manner they could. Kenichiro had a bat, Bella naturally had her gun, and Zenji produced a shovel with a moon insignia from somewhere, claiming it was 'his old standby'. Perhaps Nagisa had stolen it? Who knew, at this point.

Minato, Juri, and I, meanwhile, would be behind them, and use the distraction to sneak through, avoiding as much conflict as possible. Our goal was to make it to the door in the back that Anzu had mentioned by heading through the caution tape maze, and determine what it was that was being guarded, if anything.

Based on the positions recorded for each of the remaining enemies, Anzu and Park were stationed at the entrance to the maze to run interference and, if possible, take down anyone they could. Wataru, Zoe, and Tsukihi were instructed to use their best judgment to assist as needed, but were assigned to stations near each of three robbers' noted locations. Finally, Saori and Ryo were stationed right at the exit—Ryo had very good hearing, so he and Saori were to communicate surveillance as needed.

“If I'm right,” Minato said during the planning, “they'll have to stay in the same general area. You guys only heard the one guy actually talking, right?” There was assent. “That'll probably be Kokeyama, so we need to centralize our forces on him if he's the only one with a 'real' brain.”

“You're talking as though they're not human,” Tsukihi said.

“If I'm right,” Minato said again, “they're not. You can think of them as part of the recreation. Oh—random question, hey Saori?”

“Mm?” Saori looked up from her mug of coffee.

“Sorry, Saori,” Minato said (and he said this in English so his pun really was there), “it's been bugging me. You know what an 'ependymoma' is?”

“It's a sort of tumor that appears in the brain and spine,” Saori said, and then took another drink.

“Wow, I feel so enlightened!” Minato laughed. Then he returned to business. “So, we should be able to take them down fairly easily. Just—”

“Don't get shot?” Wataru asked.

“Don't get shot,” I agreed.

* * *

The operation began surprisingly smoothly. When we entered the supermarket, it was quiet, as though empty. The other eight were able to take up their positions, and we of the vanguard began to progress forward. We kept as quiet as we could, so we'd confirmed our readiness before entering, but the five of us had many a solid look for each other for confirmation... well, most of us. Zenji didn't. He preferred to keep his eyes on the prize, or the wall, as the case may have been.

With quiet nods, Bella and Zenji tensed up as soon as they saw Emi Shinoe's bloodstain. Minato grabbed my hand tightly, and Kenichiro took a slight step toward the bloodstain, into the aisle.

—The quiet was broken.

“H-hey, you! Stop!” A voice I didn't recognize. “Kyaa!” Park. “Alright, come here!” Wataru. “To your left!” Saori.

Zenji catapulted forward, leaping past Kenichiro to the edge of the aisle and swinging his shovel out, sending it flying into the head of another man just crossing that aisle—by the angle, aiming toward Anzu and Park. The man staggered back, and Zenji took the opportunity to grandstand a little, stepping out of the aisle with his arms raised and a smug grin before pointing his shovel back toward his new opponent.

“Ow, what the fuck?!” the man cried. Minato smiled and nodded toward me, and I understood this both to mean that he was on the money and that it was now time to go. In synchronization I'm sure he was shocked I managed, the two of us launched past Zenji and his opponent, who reacted briefly to that before realizing that he was now not only facing down a grandstanding man with a shovel, but Kenichiro, who tackled Zenji out of the way of a bullet fired from someone else somewhere.

“Stay sharp, you idiot!” Kenichiro said, just as Anzu roared an, “Over here, shithog!” and her pipe audibly connected with bone.

That said, I didn't have time to spend on that, as I was focused on matching Minato foot for foot. True to his form as a thrill seeker, he was quite fast, and he seemed rather pleased that I could keep up once the shock wore off. Our first turn was a bust, leading us to a dead end, but once we doubled back out and took the next turn, we were confronted with a turn. He intended to turn left, so I hung back a moment to give him the right of way—

A breathless “Oh crap!” left Minato's lungs as we turned directly into the face of a robber, who must've strayed rather far from his initial position during the raid. Minato began to skid to a stop, but the robber didn't seem interested in giving him the time to turn around and run, raising his gun toward Minato.

—Then, my instincts twitched, and I dove to the floor, holding Minato's shoulders to push both of us down. We landed on the ground just as a gunshot rang out—

and blasted our assailant in the shoulder, paralyzing his arm that held the gun. A quick cock of my head backwards confirmed our local Nevadan belle standing behind us with a cool smirk and one eye closed, having skidded into a rather cool pose as she held her smoking gun. “I got this one, sweethearts!” Bella called, and both Minato and I were quick to our feet past this person.

We had to take another turn or two, winding back to the other side of the store before we found the exit that would lead us to the back door, but with the entire cadre of robbers occupied, we were essentially unharried. The door was unlocked, and Minato flung it open, both of us dashing inside and immediately collapsing with heavy breaths to give ourselves a second.

“Okay,” Minato said, giving a thumbs up, “go us.” He was panting heavier than I was.

“Go us,” I agreed, and then got to standing. Back here appeared to be a storage room, with a number of large boxes laid about. “We need to find something or we're not being useful.”

Both of us began to scurry about this dismal, grey, tall room, opening boxes again and again. Cans of food, bushels of produce... it was a busy room, full of just the sort of supplies we needed. It was cold in this room, which I realized must be from an open freezer that sat in one side of the room, and went to go close it when I noticed Minato shiver a little. “Oh, thanks,” he said.

“Of course,” I responded, shoving the freezer door closed with some effort, as it was rather heavy. When I closed the door, I realized that a freezer box had been left just outside the door, and decided I might as well open it.

Mai was inside.

“Wha...”

She was still in that same white sundress, her hands held together and a peaceful smile sat on her face. I vaguely thought to myself about how ridiculous it was to find my little sister inside a freezer box inside a supermarket, but I also noticed there appeared to be a bloodstain on the lower half of her sundress. Her head sure looked intact, though.

Then she opened her eyes, and smiled at me. “_Onee-chan_. It's good to see you again.”

“Haven't I told you before that spaces this small are bad for you?” I scoffed, putting my fingers on my forehead. “What are you even doing here? Isn't there a problem with this scenario?”

“Do you have time to worry about that right now?” Mai asked, and sure enough, I heard another gunshot outside—

With a yelp, Mai scurried back inside a trunk we kept for clothes that was conveniently mostly empty. I rolled my eyes. “It's just a thunderstorm,” I said.

“Is it really that strange to be frightened by loud bangs right near our house?!” Mai yelped from inside the trunk, and I sighed. “It's not my fault you're fearless, _Onee-chan_! You're the abnormal one here!”

“We're Oriharas,” I reminded her. “It's our duty to be fearless. Have you forgotten already?”

“Aaaahhhh, stop bullying meeee!” Mai whined.

I smirked, and then said, “Well, I suppose that side of you is cute, too. You're lucky I enjoy protecting you, frankly.”

After a moment of silence, Mai peeked her eyes out of the trunk, bright red jewels peeking out from the darkness. “Really?”

“Do I ever lie to you?” I asked. “I only lie to those I need to lie to.”

“Well... I guess not...” Mai murmured, frowning and averting her eyes.

“At any rate, trunks like that aren't good for your health,” I said. “Your fascination with dark places is worrying. Nobody can see you like that, you know.”

“That's a good thing!” Mai wailed. “I don't want people to see me.”

I gave a beleaguered sigh and said, “What am I to do with you?” As she poked her head out a bit more, I saw her point in some direction or another. “What's over there?”

“You might want to look over there,” she said, and I lifted my head to see she was pointing me in the direction of a lever stuck in the wall.

“Eh?” I blinked, but when I looked down again,

Mai wasn't inside.

“You good, Mai?” Minato asked, shaking me from my brief stunning.

“Yes, I'm sorry,” I said. I hurried over to the lever I'd found and slammed it downward—

There was a chaotic cacophony of the sound of caution tape unfurling outside the room, and at the loud noise, Minato went to go open the door and see what had happened. “The caution tape's gone!” he called to me.

“Yeah, no shit!” Zenji called back. With a swing of the shovel's stem, he knocked his opponent to the floor, and then sighed. “Bit late for that.”

—And all of a sudden, I realized that things seemed quiet again. There were no more gunshots, or the sounds of fighting. Had they defeated all five robbers while we were back there? I poked my head out of the door to see, and sure enough, though I didn't have a full view of the store, I could see most of the group taking a moment to recuperate. Park appeared to have taken a strike to the side, as he was holding it and wincing, and some of Bella and Zoe's hair looked rather singed. Nevertheless, once I came out and inspected more properly, to be sure, there were four masked men unconscious on the floor.

I, Wataru, Zenji, and Kenichiro gathered closer to the one Zenji had just struck to the floor, who stirred. Wataru leaned over and took off his mask, and sure enough, underneath was a dusty-haired, haggard-looking young man with a solid bump on his head from Zenji's strike. His hair was tangled from being within the mask, but it was, without a doubt, Hiro Kokeyama, as Minato confirmed.

Groaning, Kokeyama began to open his eyes. “What the hell... is your problem...”

“The hell's yours, asshole?” Zenji said, kneeling down and grabbing him by the collar. “You like going and shooting random people?”

“T-this is... this is a social demonstration,” Kokeyama said. “It's a—”

“'It's just a prank, bro,'” Kenichiro scoffed.

“What the _fuck do you know_?!” Kokeyama roared, beginning to struggle against Zenji's grip. “You don't know shit! None of you old bastards do! I've got—” He grunted, but Zenji was stronger. “I've got _bone cancer_, and nobody'll treat me! You're all so fucking scared!” (Ependymomas are not cancerous, to be clear.) “I can't get shit like this, I can't _do_ shit like this! How am I even gonna feed myself if I'm not gonna be able to get out of bed?! I—”

The punch to his face knocked him hard enough to break him out of Zenji's grip, pushing him back to the floor. A dour look had come over Wataru's face, and he'd punched hard enough to cause a bit of blood splatter. “I hate hearing this guy talk,” Wataru said, rubbing his hair with his clean hand. “What a jackass.” He was snarling more furiously than I had ever seen on his face until now.

“Wataru...” I said, my eyes wide. “Well—”

“Uh, hey,” Anzu said, her voice a bit unsteady as she looked over from the entrance to the relatively open area right near the bloodstain where they had first found the white-haired girl—where we now stood. “Is that normal?”

There was a bulge on Kokeyama's shoulder. And it seemed like it was moving. “Uhhh...” Zenji said, and I could feel everyone's eyes coming over here from their positions. I began to tense up myself, breaking into a sweat.

“Uh, what the,” Kokeyama murmured himself, looking over and touching the bulge with his other hand. “Wha.” And when he touched it, it started _wiggling_.

And then he started screaming. Screaming, and screaming, and screaming, like his entire body was in such horrible pain it seared his nerves. “Get back!” Wataru yelled, shoving his arm in front of me and Minato.

And then it _burst_

blood and viscera flying about, a few drops striking me in the face, as _bone_ started sticking out of the hole. And not just _bone_. It was not a _shoulder_. It looked almost like the cap of a _skull_

and as this man continued to shriek, the division of his arm from the rest of his body was furthered as tendrils of bone began to slice out from the opening with horrible, wet noises, and these were not just _bone_ either, but as they began to reorient this _thing_ they began to look more like a spider's legs, but sharper, like horrible, bloodstained alabaster blades, but with things that looked like hands just on the end that it could stand on

and what we stood in front of was not a man, no, it was some sort of skull thing bursting out of a man's arm, leaving him hanging beneath its body like some sort of warm nest as he passed out from the pain, a multilegged spider of bone and splattered with blood and viscera and standing right there in front of me was something that _should not be_—

and then it was like an insulting final touch, as strands of hair, ratty, dark hair, began to slink out of the skull and wrap through the joints on those bone arm hand blade _things_, tying them together like the strings of a puppet, and then it started to _move_.

“Ah...”

It took me a moment to realize that it was Minato who'd made the first noise. “Ah, ah...” He began to back up, but then the thing was moving, so it stayed about the same distance from him. “Aah, aaaaah, aaaaaa_aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa**AAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHH**_!”


	13. Welcome to Sinner Hunter, 9 ~ World of Thought

If Minato's scream was not enough to rouse me from my own fugue state, then the sight of this 'thing', roughly twice my size, _moving,_ certainly was. I began attempting to grab onto Minato's arm, calling out, “Hey, what the hell are you doing?!”

“Aah, aaaaah...” Minato's voice came out, croaking, from his agape jaw.

“Move! Do you want to die—?!” I managed to duck. This thing raised one of its limbs and swung, slicing through the sides of a few shelves as it did, though thankfully Minato and I were out of the way. “All of—”

There was a clanging noise as something bounced against the spider-thing's body—a can of tomato paste. From the angle, I followed it back to Tsukihi, standing on the far side of the store, and was idly surprised by how good her throwing arm was. The spider-thing's attention was drawn, and with a hissing noise it began to advance toward her.

The four men near me—Wataru, Zenji, Minato, and Kenichiro—and I ducked into the aisles once Tsukihi caught its attention, and Kenichiro said, “Okay, what the hell are we gonna do here?”

“If it's like the robbers, it might not be able to leave,” I said, my hand on my chin, though I was visibly sweating and shaking a little. “Perhaps we should just escape, and—”

“Calm up!” Kenichiro commanded, and cocked his head. “Did you see that thing? What the hell even was that?”

“Fantastic question,” Wataru said, fidgeting with his coat rack. “I—”

“Hey, _asshole_!” Oh, no. Anzu's fight response had been activated. I peeked out to see her charging the spider-thing with a pipe as it entered into the produce aisle, running up and whacking one of its limbs with the pipe. “C'mere! Get over here!”

“Are you _stupid_?!” Juri cried from her hiding place, over by the entrance.

As it whacked against one of the beast's limbs, I could see Anzu's pipe begin to take dents. The beast, though, looked no worse for wear, beginning to turn around to face her. “Yeah, that's right! Over here, shit-for-brains!” Anzu roared, continuing her assault.

“_Anzu!_” Tsukihi cried from further into the produce aisle, and as the beast was turning, she dashed past and tackled her daughter out of the way. “Are you insane?!”

“Argh, get the fuck off of me!” Anzu began wriggling against her mother's grip, though perhaps not as strongly as she could've given the surreality of the situation. “I—”

The beast turned its attention from the Itagakis, and then I heard a loud _crash_, followed by many smaller sounds of objects hitting the floor. I turned my head back in. “It just cut through one of the shelves,” I said, as it did so another time. “Could it—?”

“It's looking for someone,” Wataru observed.

“The Prince?” I asked, and Zenji groaned, putting his head in his hands. Another crash.

“Oh, god...” Minato said, his head in his hands. “Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god...”

I briefly took inventory. Myself, Minato, Zenji, Wataru, and Kenichiro were over here. Anzu, Tsukihi, Juri, Saori, and Ryo, I knew were near the entrance. I hoped Park had found a hiding spot over there as well, but—

“Where are Zoe and Bella?!” I started, realizing I'd lost track of their positions.

Ever capable, Wataru dashed over to the other side of the aisle to check on that side, and clicked his tongue. “Zoe's over there,” he said, cocking his head further toward where the beast was cutting through the aisles. “It's gonna get over there soon—”

The crashing had stopped, then, and the beast took inventory, realizing there was someone next to it. Zoe Kitachi was curled up into a ball, pale as a sheet, right next to it, and as she looked up I recognized the leg-locked sensations of someone who was completely paralyzed by fear. “Ah, ahhh...” She croaked, looking up at the beast, which gave her an appraising glance.

“Shit!” Wataru said, throwing caution to the wind and jumping out, hurling his coat rack at the beast. “Hey! Over here!”

It seemed like the beast turned ever slightly faster at the sound of Wataru's voice. As it saw him, eyes, great, yellowed eyes, rolled out of Kokeyama and floated within the skull's sockets for just a moment before the thing _roared_. One side of its body began to crawl along the wall, and it ran at him at a diagonal angle.

Zenji yanked on Wataru's arm to get him back into the aisle just in time, and I breathed a momentary sigh of relief. “What the fuck were you thinking?!” Zenji said, grabbing Wataru's shoulders.

“Should I have just let it cut Dr. Kitachi in half?” Wataru said, putting his hand to his forehead for a moment before shaking Zenji's arms off. “I—”

Before he could finish, Zoe had scurried into our aisle as well. “Do we have a plan?” She asked.

“Oh yeah, a plan,” Kenichiro said, rolling his eyes, “_what the fuck do you think?!_”

There was another roar as the beast crashed into the far wall, and then, in a distorted, warbling voice—

“_Why...?_”

It _spoke_.

“_Why? Why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why?!_”

“We can't just leave it here,” Zoe said, her face in an almost painful-looking half-grimace. “We—!”

“_Minato!_” The sound of his voice roused Minato somewhat, and he looked up. He and I headed toward the other edge of the aisle, to see—

“Oh, _no_,” I mumbled. There was Park, a bottle of wine uncorked and in his hand, standing near where the beast had just roared from. He picked up another bottle of wine from the alcohol shelves and hurled it, and I heard a cracking of glass against either the floor or the beast.

“You _idiot_!” Tsukihi called out from where she'd roped Anzu into staying. “Get back!”

“Minato,” Park continued, “you said this was a 'recreation'? Yes? Do you think this thing? Might also be part of that?” I heard the beast's steps getting closer to him.

“I guess maybe?!” Minato called back.

“Then in that case!” Park yelped, dodging awkwardly into a roll to evade a swing from the beast. “In that case, perhaps we should 'recreate'! We've—the robbers have dispersed, they're no longer here, but that's not the, _aaahhh_!” Another roll, and if I was worried for his safety before, seeing his form for rolling while he was drunk I was even moreso.

We ducked our heads back into the aisle, and then I murmured, “Okay, that's not an _awful_ idea, but what are we doing? We—”

“_Why, why, why, why, why?! Why didn't you come?!_”

I dearly wished it would shut up so I could gather my thoughts, but the noises continued, and the bang I heard caused the beast to launch into a far more pained, agonizing roar. That was—a gunshot! “Much obliged, Park!” I heard Bella call out from an aisle closer to Park's location. A second shot, and then a third. “Uhh?!”

The first shot had audibly worked, but the second and third seemed little more than annoyances to the beast, which leapt to face Bella and began running full-bore toward her, two of its arms outstretched to carve the shelves in twain. Thankfully, no doubt, Bella was faster than it.

By now, the floor of this supermarket was beginning to look more like a warzone, and I was honestly surprised that both shelves by us had remained intact, as most others had taken at least some damage. “Can this place quit being so popular?!” Kenichiro grumbled as Park scurried inside as well.

“Sorry, sorry!” Park laughed nervously. “I have no idea where else to be right now!”

Zenji mumbled an, “Alright, fuck this,” and stood up, brandishing his shovel. “You guys get to the entrance, I'll pick her up.”

“Are you—?” 'Sure', I'm certain Zoe meant to ask, but Zenji just turned his head toward her and glared before rolling out.

“Oh, my hero!” Bella cried, an awkward laugh coming out of her throat.

Without the beast's attention on us, we were able to easily reach the store's entrance, where Anzu, Tsukihi, Saori, Ryo, and Juri were waiting. We ducked against the checkout aisles, keeping watch as Zenji and Bella took turns trying to keep the beast occupied from each other. “Okay, great, so what do we do now?!” Juri said. “If it's a puzzle boss, what's the puzzle?”

“Is that really the best idea we have?” Anzu spat. “Because that sucks. What the hell are we supposed to do?”

“I _literally_ just asked that,” Juri said, looking over and throwing up her hands. A recreation, hm? I thought for a moment. If it was supposed to be a recreation (and I didn't want to think about the implications if it wasn't,) then that would mean that...

“Shooting it was one step,” I said. “What comes after shooting it?”

Then, Saori, who had remained quiet this whole time, holding her arms around a cowering Ryo, looked up as though she'd realized something. Her vacant realization quickly turned to a surprisingly grim determination as she crawled over to Zoe. “Do you have a flare in there?”

Zoe's backpack, which I had managed to forget was there, suddenly re-entered my mind. “Yes, but for what?” Zoe asked.

“_Ah!_” Tsukihi and Park both made similar noises of realization, though Park's was slightly slower. “We need to lure it toward the parking lot!” Tsukihi said, and Saori nodded.

Saori then looked to Minato. “Where's the ependymoma? Brain or spine?”

“Spinal,” Minato said, “I think.”

“Zenji! Ms. Duke!” Park called out, and the two of them did hear him from the way they reacted. “We're going to lure it toward the parking lot!”

“Why?!” Zenji called back, sliding under the beast.

“No questions!” Tsukihi called back. “Follow us and try to strike Kokeyama's spine!”

“_His_ spine?!” Zenji said, gesturing to the much more pressing threat.

“She just said no questions!” Bella responded, firing another bullet to catch the beast's attention. “Got it, Boss Lady!”

Wataru rolled over to Zoe and said, “I'll handle the flare, you guys get out.”

“Wataru...” Ryo murmured, tears in his eyes.

“Don't worry!” Wataru turned his head to give Ryo a gentle smile and a thumbs up. “I'll be fine.”

“If you're sure, dude!” Minato raised his hands, shrugging.

Ten of us, then, hurried out to the parking lot and just past, hiding behind a few cars near the edge of the lot. It was deathly quiet outside of the lot as I looked through the window of the car, toward the entrance of Kansai Super, and—

The doors slid open and Wataru ran out, closely followed by the beast. “_Whyyyyyyyyyyyy?!_” The beast roared, the hair moving its joints seeming to tense.

“Good question! Wish I had an answer for you!” Wataru called back. He pivoted on his heel once he was far enough away, and cracked his knuckles. His back was turned, but I'm sure he put on a grin. “You'd have to ask someone smarter than me, though.”

With another roar, the beast once again raised a limb, but this time it did not swing wide. The hand on the end of its bladed limb curled up into a _fist_, and with force like an industrial piston it launched a jab towards Wataru.

If Park's rolling skill was a one out of ten, I'd place Wataru's at a nine. As though he saw the beast's punch coming in slow motion, he rolled forward underneath its limb, sprang forward, leapt up, and—and I am still shocked he managed to either think of or do this—_punched the beast in the face_. I'm told that my face at that moment was rather silly-looking, but Ryo and Park, who were next to me, looked similarly gobsmacked.

Perhaps even more amazing was the fact that his punch actually worked. As he landed, the beast staggered backwards, with another pained wail. Its other front hand went up instinctively to guard its face, and it almost looked as though it teared up a bit. “C'mon, that's it?” Wataru said, and it was then that I realized how good his form was here, his fists loose, his body ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. “I can go _all day_ if you want!”

Once again, those yellowed eyes rolled into its eye sockets, and it levied both eyes at Wataru. Its posture at this point had shifted—it had put up its dukes, so to speak, holding up both of its front limbs in fists and holding itself rather like a hunched-over boxer rather than a spider. Of course, Kokeyama was still hanging from its head, but he was lower to the ground now on account of the different angle.

And that—

_Bang! _A shot rang out, and a fleshy impact thereafter, as some small chunks of flesh fell from behind the beast. “_Now_!”

—was all—

With a roar, just behind the beast, I saw Zenji come in, with his shovel overhead. “_Fuck off!_” And he drove it into Kokeyama's back—

—they needed.

The body of Hiro Kokeyama gave a loud _crack_ as Zenji drove his shovel into his spine, which Bella had exposed by shooting the body. As the beast roared once more, it popped loose of Kokeyama's broken body, which split into two, and then, landing on the ground, disintegrated into black dust and blew away. The beast collapsed to the ground, as well, its eyes losing their bright shade and going dull, then black, then to dust.

“_Why...?_” The beast asked, one more time. “_Why didn't you... come?_” And then its limbs stopped jerking, its body stopped moving, and it lay still. Its hair began to disintegrate, too, as Wataru, Zenji, and Bella stood over it, catching their breath. And the blood, wiping clean the bone to reveal the ivory form of the beast, unmarred.

“I wonder if there even is an answer?” Wataru asked, as its limbs, too, began to disintegrate, and then—

it was gone. “Well... probably not, I guess,” Wataru said, following the blowing ashes with his eyes, his hands in his pockets.

I'm not sure whether it was him who was being tone-deaf, or Zenji and Bella, who, after catching their breath, both began cackling and jumping around. “I! Fucking! _Rule!_” Zenji exclaimed, pumping his fists.

“_We_ rule!” Bella said, twirling around before offering Zenji in a fistbump.

“Yeah, you know, sure, we rule!” Zenji said, meeting her in that fistbump. “Kicked that thing's _ass_! Eat dirt, clownshoes! Nobody puts Zenji in the corner!”

“And you, too, Wataru!” Bella said, clapping her hands and running over to yank Wataru's hand out of his pocket, getting him to stammer in confusion. “With that punch of yours? Whoo-wee, that was mighty brave of you!”

...No, never mind. I'm pretty sure it was them who were being tone-deaf.

The rest of us began slowly to peek our heads out from the cars, and I, at least, wasn't entirely certain that what I'd just seen had actually happened before I did so. “Wow, yes,” Park said, clapping his hands and joining in the festivities, “we sure do rule!”

There was, collectively, a moment, before everything quieted down. Then, Anzu had the first word. “Hey, _what the fuck_?” She asked, leaning on a car and loudly shrugging.

“Mmhm,” Ryo agreed, his eyes still wide, some sweat still caught in his bushy hair.

“Does _Minato_ have an explanation for us?” I asked, and Minato yelped. “Minato.”

“Okay, maybe my theory got proven right faster than I expected,” Minato said, crossing his arms and tapping his foot, as well as tapping his left temple with his index finger. “Because like, that thing clearly wasn't real. Right?”

“Unless we're in _Silent Hill_ now,” Juri said, sat on the ground with her chin in her hands. Then she paused, and looked up. “Maybe we're in Silent Hill.”

“No, I'm fairly certain this isn't Maine,” Tsukihi said, and then looked baffled when Juri looked baffled about her knowing that. “What?”

“_Well_,” Park said, raising a hand and walking into the center of the rough circle we'd somehow wound up in—and I saw Kenichiro groan when he remembered Park was drunk—“I'm _fairly certain_ that that was most likely a metaphor and not some sort of actual horrible bio-monster.”

Saori nodded. “I don't think that can happen.”

“I would rather not think about the implications of if it can!” Park said, and he laughed, but it wasn't a good laugh. “I would rather not imagine that we were in some sort of plot about a government biological weapon mutagen or something... why, those keep me up at night when I read them! Is that your idea, Minato? Are you going to shatter my dreams?”

Minato blinked, stopping. “Uh, no. Nope. Not that.”

“See?” Park gestured widely. “I drink, and good things happen! Haha! Correlation, you see!” He waggled his finger. “Good things, like us narrowly avoiding death from a bone spider!”

“A metaphorical bone spider,” Juri said, giving him an unimpressed glance. “Yeah, okay. That's better than a literal bone spider.”

There was a pause. “Rather than waiting,” Tsukihi said, “we should get answers from the woman herself.” She was glowering.

* * *

Once the spider was defeated, the grey filter over Kansai Super seemed to be lifted, and several other cars in the lot came unlocked and functional. Enough of them were capable of driving on sand that we were able to drive home all at once.

As five people fit in the jeep, we needed three cars. Ryo wanted to ride with me, so I wound up riding shotgun in a car with Ryo and Saori in the backseat. After asking us to wait a moment, Wataru slid into the side of this plain, but functional car, with a few CD cases in his hands. “Eh?” I murmured.

“Hope you guys don't mind,” Wataru said. “They weren't doing anyone any good in there, and nobody else wanted them.”

“Ah, then those are the Prince's?” I asked. True enough, I recognized a few. Ryo was in the back, curling up into a snoozing Saori. Ryo looked excited at the prospect of some light music.

“Let's see... something low-stress... ah, here we go,” Wataru said, smiling. I didn't recognize the artist. “Mitch Murder's 'The Real Deal'. There's some more Mitch in here, but this one's got a good one on it.”

“Is this your taste?” I asked, with a chuckle.

“Yeah,” Wataru said, nodding and removing the CD. “I mean, this album's from 2016, so it's three years older than I am, but I think music is one of those things that can't really age.” He really did have such a gentle smile. By the look of things, this album had six tracks, and he clicked forward one, two, three, four times.

Slow, but hard-hitting percussion started up over the sound of wind... or, no, I realized. That was the sound of a launch process. “_Ten... nine... eight... seven... six... five... four... three... two... one... Rocket!_”

This was a synthesizer song, which were old-fashioned, according to Kenichiro, even when he was young. The sound of this song, which Wataru said was called 'Outpost Alpha', was low, calm, invoking in my mind the image of a long highway at sunset. I could see Ryo bouncing up and down to the slow, calming beat, and even Saori, snoozing in the backseat, seemed to smile a little to the sound of it.

“It's nice,” I said, and Wataru nodded, with an affirmative grunt. “Is this the sort of thing you like to listen to?”

“Yeah,” Wataru said. “I listen to other things, too, of course, but slow stuff like this is my favorite.”

For a moment, I was quiet, but then something occurred to me. “Your form was actually quite good,” I said. He made a questioning noise, and I said, “For fighting.”

“Ah, yeah,” Wataru said. “I, uh...” He rubbed the back of his head with his hand. “Well, I got into some scraps when I was younger. I got pretty good at it.”

“You seem too responsible for that,” I said, and that wasn't sarcastic.

“Yeah, well, I used to be pretty full of myself. Had this stupid catchphrase and everything,” Wataru said, snorting. “But I grew up, got over myself, or, well, at least I think I did,” and he took a moment to ponder that, checking out the rear-view mirror on instinct. “I can still fight, though.”

“You're surprisingly multifaceted,” I said, smiling and looking out the window. “I'm glad you're here, Wataru.”

There was a little chuckle before Wataru said, with a wry grin, “Hey, don't go falling in love with me or anything.”

“Please,” I said, scoffing, but smiling myself. “Perhaps if you were a woman, I'd consider it.”

“Wow, ouch,” Wataru laughed. Ryo laughed, too. “I've thought sometimes that I might make an attractive woman, though.”

“You've got the building blocks,” I said. “There wouldn't be all that much stopping you from trying if you wanted to try.”

“Yeah, but I think I'm good how I am,” Wataru said. His ability to have a conversation while also staying in pace with the other two cars also impressed me, and still does, because I still can't drive. A peppier beat began as the previous track ended. “...You ready, Mai?”

It took me a moment, but I understood. “For Sinner Hunter?”

“Yeah. I figured I should ask,” Wataru said.

“I think so,” I said, and we both looked forward through the windshield. “Are you?”

“Yeah,” Wataru said. His voice was quiet. “I am.”

* * *

Nagisa would not respond to our calls, once we returned to the mansion. After a few tries for her and Phanuel both, I stepped out of the fountain, where we'd gathered, and toward the stairs. “If she won't respond,” I said, “we simply need to force her hand. Let's go.”

There was... unrest, I think, and worry, about what was going to happen, but I refused to stop moving my legs, drowning out those thoughts.

As I climbed to the third floor, though, I heard Tsukihi and Wataru following right behind you. Park was complaining, but Tsukihi said, “Would you rather wait hours letting the time go by, letting the anticipation build? She has the right idea.”

“Plus Ryo needs to sleep,” Wataru said, and that was also true.

The point was, all thirteen of us _did_ wind up in front of that elevator as I leaned in and touched that button which had been sitting there this entire time. As I did, it depressed pleasantly, and then—

“Phase Two of the first round has begun!” Phanuel's voice called over the intercom. “Everyone, please head for the third floor!”

Phanuel then appeared on a screen in front of us, starting out with eyes closed, but then opening its eyes and starting back. “E-eh?! Oh, you're all already here! Hi!”

“_Bone spider?!_” Juri sputtered.

Blinking, Phanuel tilted its head. “What?”

Then, sure enough, Nagisa appeared on the other side, sliding in with a glower on her face. She looked down at her watch. “That's roughly nine hours off of your total,” she said. “I understand you want answers.”

“_Bone spider?!_” Park sputtered.

“...Much like the robbers' appearance, that was within parameters but not necessarily intended,” Nagisa said, steepling her hands. She turned her head to Phanuel. “You were in the middle of maintenance, so I imagine you missed it.”

“_Bone spider?!_” Phanuel sputtered.

“Don't...” Nagisa closed her eye and sighed. “Don't do that.”

“Answers would be appreciated,” Tsukihi said, crossing her arms and grabbing her left sleeve with her right hand. “What was that monster? Where _are_ we?”

“Come in the elevator,” Nagisa said. “We've got a brief ride over which I can give you these answers.”

The elevator door opened, and revealed a surprisingly spacious inside as it dinged pleasantly. “Aww, _fuuuuck_,” Juri complained, “I hate elevators!”

“They make my stomach feel weird,” Anzu spat.

* * *

Inside the elevator, we all stood. I took up a position in the far left corner, with Ryo holding my hand. Saori slumped against the far right corner, and Zenji leaned on the wall by her. Anzu took a position near the front, but then scooted backward to between myself and Zenji when her mother entered the elevator and took up a similar position. Bella took up the close-right position, looking upward. Minato, Park, and Juri all stood in the center, behind Tsukihi. Wataru headed in to stand in the front by Tsukihi, and Zoe opted to take the close-left corner.

Then, the doors shut, and the elevator began to move upward.

“Minato has likely figured this out already, considering he _reads my blog_,” Nagisa said over the intercom, “but the world you are currently in is not real. This is a virtual reality—” That got a few shouts of befuddlement. “—as I was saying, a _virtual reality_, yes. This is a world shaped, in large part, by your own psyches. The supermarket you were just fighting within, and that beast, were manifestations of the recollections and twisted cognition of the Prince.”

“D-do we really have the tech for, er, for something like that?” Park asked, his stammering a bit slurred given his inebriation.

“I can assure you _I_ do,” Nagisa said. “I've been working on it for years and would love to talk your ear off about the specifics. Minato seems to find them rather fascinating.”

“Hey, can you _stop_ calling me out here?” Minato said, twiddling his fingers. “I feel all awkward.”

“So, no, I did _not_ steal your possessions,” Nagisa said, a tinge of bitterness in her voice. “I am not a petty thief, I am a kidnapper. When possible, your mind has simply called up the image of your own possessions as the simulation was being instanced.” She paused for questions. Nobody spoke yet. “At the moment, your bodies are sleeping soundly in a bunker in Osaka. However, in the case of any further aberrations like what you just faced, I would advise you to remain cautious. Now—”

And then the door opened. “Before I go further, it's time to continue.”

By the layout of the building, this could only possibly be one place—the room well at the top, with the glass veneer, that we had seen three days ago. It had been in our sight each time we'd left, but only now were we able to access it. The glass veneer was still not within our sight, though.

This was an antechamber, with thirteen chairs affixed to the ground in a circle surrounded by red, Victorian-style wallpaper. The floor was wood-patterned, though I'm sure it was false wood given the circumstances. Only one wall was different, and that was the far wall from us, a sheer black wall with three indentations, containing what looked like inactive computer terminals. On either side of that wall were metal sliding doors, which were similarly inactive. Candles sat upon each of the walls, as well as a chandelier, so the room was quite well lit.

“Take a seat wherever you like,” Nagisa said. “I'm not picky.”

“Are we not talking about all this yet?” Saori asked, taking a seat.

“You know, yeah, I feel like we should talk about all of _that_,” Juri said, nodding fervently. “Yeah, that seems reasonable.”

Zoe tapped her foot impatiently once, twice, three times, then patted Juri on the shoulder as she walked beside her. “Think about it this way. Would you rather we stood here for half an hour discussing the ins and outs of an already absurd situation before having our understanding thrown off _again_ by whatever is about to happen and/or be revealed to us? I, personally, would much rather wait until we have a solid block of information to discuss one point at a time.”

“...Nagisa might... um, petunia...” Ryo murmured, but then lit up when he saw a wrench Minato was carrying. “Nagisa might get cranky.”

Juri took a moment to pause, and then said, “Okay yeah, both of those are fair! Okay.”

So, starting clockwise from by the terminals, the seating order was Tsukihi, Zoe, Minato, Bella, myself, Ryo, Saori, Zenji, Wataru, Anzu, Juri, Kenichiro, and Park. This, too, became an unspoken order from now on.

“The rules are simple,” Nagisa said. “The thirteen of you will come to a consensus regarding the identity of the Prince by whatever arguments you deem necessary. Should the Prince confess during the game, he will automatically lose. Otherwise, Phanuel will call time once debate has ceased being productive, and a majority vote will be called.”

“What happens if someone else gets selected?” Wataru asked.

“The Prince will win, and be allowed to leave the island,” Nagisa said. “Meanwhile, the one who lost will have their sin immediately revealed. Whoever is voted for will then be subjected to a second vote by three random members of the group regarding their fate.”

“Wait,” I asked, “wouldn't that be as good as confessing, if they immediately leave?”

“It would, but for one thing,” Nagisa said. “As this is a reality based on cognition, a sinner's forced exit would rip the memory of the supermarket incident from this world, as well as from your memories. You might theorize, but the memories of what actually occurred in there, as well as the details of your altercations in there, would become much more difficult, if not impossible, to call on.”

“Convenient,” Zenji said, crossing one leg over the other and snorting.

“And the second vote?” Tsukihi asked. “What are our options?”

“There are three,” Nagisa said. “'Eject' will allow the subject to leave the island, though in that case you will still recall their sin. 'Exonerate' will absolve them of their status as a Sinner and allow them to remain on the island to continue seeking the truth. And finally, 'Execute' will... well, I'm sure you can imagine.”

“Wait,” I called out. “What 'truth'?”

“The truth,” Nagisa said, “of the incident that stole away my brother's life.” And the feed cut out.

Then, a podium popped out over by the terminals, and somehow, the appearance of Phanuel, not on the screen, but in person, was one of the less surprising things I'd experienced today. “Hi, everyone!” Phanuel said, waving. It put its finger nubs up to its eyes and did a V-sign, sparkling. Park's horrified scream probably did not do wonders for its self-esteem. “Oh, uh... Should I go?”

“Ohh, yeah, if we ain't in the real world, ain't nothing stopping you from bein' here, is there?” Bella asked, and she looked actually rather happy at this development. “Now you got arms!”

“Yeah, well...” Phanuel's eyes darted to the side. “They would've been _nice_ when a certain _someone_ had me fetch them their _coffee_...”

I wasn't able to put up my mental guard in time to not sputter at that. “I-I was having an episode!” I wailed. “You could've used your hands for that, I wouldn't have minded!”

“You had the computer angel fetch your coffee?” Kenichiro said, his voice awed. “You really are my kid!”

“What on _earth_ does that—?!” I sputtered. “I'm _sorry_.”

Phanuel laughed, putting its hands on its stomach. “Hehe, sorry! I'm not mad or anything, you're just really funny when you get all flustered.”

“Mmhm,” Ryo said, also laughing at me with that demure little laugh that I wished very strongly he had not picked up from me at that moment.

So, now we sat here, in a circle, ready to discuss the ins and outs of how a woman had been shot such that she had lost the usage of her legs, and then consider the fate of a boy who had wounded her, several hundred feet in the air above a completely computer-generated island within a gestalt amalgamation of our own minds, overseen by a CGI angel.

Zenji clicked his tongue, scrunching his nose. “She always did seem like a fucking weirdo.”

“Nagisa?” Saori asked.

“Who else?” Zenji said.

“I-I swear it wasn't me, I swear... I swear it wasn't me...” By the shaking Park was going through, perhaps that one bottle of wine had begun to wear off.

At that point, though, Wataru cleared his throat. “We should... probably get started.”

“I agree,” Zoe nodded. “The sooner we get through this, the sooner we can meditate on our situation.”

“Alright, everyone!” Phanuel said, banging a small gavel on the podium. “Please begin debating! Good luck!”

But a debate was not necessary for me. Even now, sitting here with everyone visible to my eyes, there was no question. Only one person here could possibly be the Prince.

So, I cleared my throat, and began to speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chance. You understand, right? What Yuki is about to say?


	14. Welcome to Sinner Hunter, Final ~ Bakamitai

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The insert song for this chapter is "Bakamitai -Sorrow-" from the game Yakuza Kiwami, sung by Takaya Kuroda. 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5e4Jq9UpboY
> 
> You'll know when to turn it on.

“Minato-_san_—” I began.

“Knew it!” Juri clapped, and Minato looked briefly taken aback.

“—I have one question before I begin explaining my logic,” I continued. “Did you have to repeat any years in high school?”

“Huh?” Minato blinked. “No way! I may look like a dip, but I'm a pretty smart cookie, if'n I do say so myself.” He had a proud smirk on his face. “Could've been valedictorian if I studied a little more!”

“_You?_” Zenji said, his eyes wide, looking genuinely taken aback.

“Thank you,” I said. I could feel twelve sets of eyes on me as I continued. “First of all, we can narrow the playing field. 'Prince' is a very particularly gendered term, and as Minato discovered, the Prince is most likely Emi Shinoe's younger half-brother. As such, this disqualifies anyone who is older than thirty-two, which cuts our guesses significantly, as well as disqualifying anyone who could not be called a 'boy' at the time of the fire or be called a 'Prince' now.”

“Myself, Mr. Washizu, and Mr. Fuyutsuki are older than Shinoe, as far as I know,” Tsukihi offered, a pensive frown on her face.

“But there's also a _lower_ limit,” I said. “It can't be Ryo, Anzu, myself, or Saori—we're all too young.” From a pocket beneath my dress, I produced something I'd pilfered from the scene—the speeding ticket. “Consider this speeding ticket, found within a car that is _most likely_, by virtue of conservation of detail, the Prince's. Its receiver's name is marked out, meaning that we are not meant to know, but to figure out—which indicates that the Prince received it.”

This got Bella to blink a few times, and say, “Uhh... Mai?” She raised her hand. “I don't quite get what you're driving at.”

“Oh, that's right. The age is lower in America, isn't it?” I asked, with a smile. “Here in Japan, the legal age for obtaining a driver's license is eighteen years old. However, if a speeding ticket was granted and the driver was not arrested, that implies that they did in fact have a valid driver's license. The four of us are too young to have had one at the time. This leaves us with less than half of our initial suspects—only those who are between the ages of twenty-four and thirty-one.”

“So that would be... er, um...” Park began to think. “Myself, Wataru, Minato, Ms. Sonohara, Dr. Kitachi, and... er, how old is Ms. Duke...”

“It's not her,” I said, “so you don't need to worry about that.” I saw Bella visibly sigh in relief. ...In a way, I was actually rather surprised _nobody_ asked why I was still including Juri and Zoe in my logic, but that made things easier. “But we can narrow it down further. There was a high school student's ID inside the car that was marked out, as well.”

“Wait...” Kenichiro had seen it as well, and I saw the gears start to turn. “Oh... oh, shit, yeah!”

“In other words, the Prince must have, six years ago, simultaneously _been a high school student_ and _had a valid driver's license_,” I said. “Only those who were eighteen years old six years ago could manage such a feat without having been held back a year, and I know for certain that Mr. Park was not held back four years.” With that, I nodded to Minato. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

Realization was clearly dawning, and Juri was sputtering. “So—”

“When you consider it simply from the pool of those who are _currently twenty-four_,” I said, “the answer is obvious. After all, the car, while speeding quickly enough to leave skid marks, only dinged the car next to it, otherwise being _perfectly _parked; not a feat a novice could manage. And I'm to understand that _one_ of our two remaining suspects,” I said, “has an older sister he holds in fairly high regard.”

One might expect, in a situation like this, that the 'culprit' would be flustered, attempting to evade their crime, but that is not how ours acted. He was smiling that gentle, cool smile of his, leaning back in his chair as things went exactly as he'd expected. “And?” he asked.

“Not to mention,” I said, “said suspect seemed to very particularly draw that beast's ire and outright admitted to me he had some practice in brawling, which would lend well to an 'altercation in the parking lot' with the robber Kokeyama.”

“And?” he asked again.

“_And_ admitted to me, to my face, that he had only ever received one speeding ticket in his life while looking at that very speeding ticket,” I continued.

“Uh-huh?” He motioned me forward.

“And, when he was the first to receive the beginning of his own poem, was audibly perturbed by it, a pair of lines only he would understand,” I continued.

“Yeah?” Motion, motion.

“And happened to know what CDs he would find in the Prince's car, because it was his _own_ car, naturally,” I continued. “Is it still in operation?”

He gave a wry chuckle at that, and said, “Yeah, actually. She's taken me a lot of places.”

“Your words,” Ryo said, with a wide-eyed look of realization on his face.

“My accent, right?” he said, both of his hands folded in his lap now. He was still smiling. “I used to have one when I was younger, but most of my actual talking skills came from Emi. She's not from Kansai originally, so I pretty much lost it. You remember that talk, right, Ryo?” Ryo nodded. “...How long have you known, Mai?”

“From the second you saw your sister's photo,” I said, pushing up my glasses. “You had an unmistakable reaction nobody else had, but I wanted to wait until I had facts to back up that knowledge before I said anything. Now, though, I can say—you are a brave man, Wataru Nishikiyama.”

“Brave?” Wataru said, raising an eyebrow. “I waited until now to confess.”

“There's a difference between bravery and foolhardiness, I'd say,” I said. With a small smile, I crossed my arms. “Why didn't you confess?”

“Well, like you said, I needed some time,” Wataru answered, leaning forward and setting his elbow on his leg, putting his hand forward. “That, and I didn't want to confess until the round was over. Nagisa said that if I did that, I'd be putting someone else on the spot, and they'd have to be the first one to lose before we even knew the rules.”

“Not the sort of man to risk someone else's hide, then?” I asked, with a cocked eyebrow.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” Wataru said. He was smiling again. “You really are good at this, huh, Mai?”

“I've mentioned my obsessive thirst for mysteries, haven't I?” I gave a demure little laugh, with my hand up to my mouth. “I had fun, Wataru.”

Right. In a situation like this, the culprit and the detective are meant to square off angrily, aren't they? But here we were, laughing and chatting like old friends.

—Then, the other eleven people in the room remembered that they existed, presumably. Minato was first, with a, “Well, okay, that makes sense,” and a cool nod.

“So, what, it's... it's over?” Anzu asked. She looked around, a bit stunned. “Just like that?”

“A debate doesn't need to last an eternity,” Tsukihi said, and she looked almost proud with her eyes closed like that. “She produced her evidence and made her case. That—”

“Hey, _you hold the fuck on_!” Zenji roared, standing up out of his seat. He was glaring, gritting his teeth at Wataru, a vein throbbing in his temple. “I don't know what rock you crawled out from, but in _my_ world we don't nearly kill our sisters, shitface.” I wondered whether Wataru had struck a nerve in Zenji, but Wataru took his verbal assault very calmly. “You think you're just gonna sit there looking all pretty, traipsing around having fun in your own brain—”

“I _know_, okay?!”

That was a tone of voice I hadn't heard from Wataru before. He'd raised his voice, yes, but this was more... somber, pained. He was looking down at his lap, unable to meet Zenji's eyes. “Look... yeah, I know, but nothing you say is gonna be any different from what my own brain tells me at night, alright? I _know_...”

There was another thing I hadn't seen Wataru doing. He was sniffling, and I could see his face was red. “I wasn't having _fun_, man. You think I ever wanted to see that asshole again? You think I wanted to see that _store_ again? None of this was fun. I wasn't having _fun_. I'm _afraid_, okay? I'm fucking _terrified_. Is that good enough for you? Emi got hurt because I was a piece of shit and that _thing_”—and at that he swung his arm wide—“that thing _agreed with me_.”

Zenji stopped, looked down, rubbed the back of his head, and said, “Uh... sorry. I was expecting it to be the weasel.”

“Oh, so you can be madder at me?” Minato beamed. “Yay! Friendship!”

“Stop talking,” I commanded, and Minato did so.

Phanuel cleared its throat once Wataru had regained his composure, a feat he performed much more quickly than I could manage. “Hey, Wataru... I don't mean to interrupt, but, um. If _you_ don't explain it—”

“You're gonna have to, right?” Wataru asked, and though his eyes were a bit red, he was doing his best to keep a straight face. Phanuel nodded. “It's okay. I wanted to talk, anyway, if they're gonna have to listen.”

“Just know you can stop at any time,” Zoe said, with a patient smile on her face. “Take breaks, if you need to.”

“Thanks, Dr. Kitachi,” Wataru said. He held his hands together, looked up, and said, “First off, I'm sorry to have caused you guys trouble. You got put in danger because of me, and... well, I'm just glad you're all okay.” He breathed out through his teeth. “Not sure how I would've handled it if my mind got you all hurt... I, uh, don't like people getting hurt because of me. I mean, yeah, it'd be Nagisa's fault in the end, but... well, you understand.

“And... I guess that's all because of Emi, too,” Wataru said, and he began to curl inward, his posture... _flattening_, as though he were being crushed.

“Say, Wataru?” Bella asked, and he made an affirmative noise. “That 'choice'... I'm awful curious. What did she 'choose'?”

Wataru chuckled, and shook his head. “Well... I'll tell you. Here's what she did—”

And with a rueful smile, this prideful, spiteful, Lackadaisical Prince—

“—she saved my life.”

—began his tale.

* * *

_I look down at my paper, and then reach into a desk. I've been using old-fashioned media for this project, so it seems appropriate to have this audio data on CDs—twelve of them, to be exact. At times, when I'm very alone, I consider putting one on early, but I've resisted. These aren't for my comfort. These—are **their** words, for me to transcribe._

_ So, for this next segment... Let me use this power of mine for some good, Wataru. Write through me... your part of this memoir to that island of ours._

* * *

Heh, I'm not used to stuff like this... I guess I'm more the laconic type. Oh—that's a word that means you don't use many words. Emi always liked that one.

_Baka mitai, kodomo na no ne_

_(Like an idiot... yeah, a child,)_

_Yume wo, otte kizutsuite_

_(I chased a dream, and I got hurt.)_

Emi took her mother's surname when she died, but that was just a sentimental thing, it wasn't like she bore a grudge against Dad. Still, it meant we had different surnames, but we were still definitely siblings. Emi didn't call Mom, well, _Mom_, but she still clearly trusted her just as much as I did.

When I was a kid, she always felt so adult. She used to be all uppity about when I wouldn't use my words, so my Japanese teachers have her to thank for me getting the Most Improvement award. You may not know it from looking at me, but I had a pretty loud mouth when I was a kid, so I was bad at showing it, but... I really did love her.

Dad and Mom, and me, and Emi... we really were a happy family. I didn't have any real worries, I was just living my life happy with the people I cared about.

_Uso ga... heta na kuse ni_

_(Even though I'm an awful liar,)_

_Waraenai egao wo miseta..._

_(I kept showing you those fake smiles.)_

Then—

(“Mom, Wataru, get back!” “Agh!” “Wha—?!” “That's—that's not Dad anymore!”)

—the worst night of my life happened.

(“Shit! Where's the exit again?!” “Um, over there—aah!” “Goddamn stupid mother_fucking_ debris!”)

Like I said, I was pretty inattentive, so Emi had to drag me and Mom away when Dad started flipping out. We managed to dodge the brunt of it, but I did see my dad's arm get hacked open by some guy in a medieval suit. With the rubble, it was beginning to feel like a maze, especially when some people had barred some of the doors... probably thinking everyone still behind them had lost it. But we got out to the entrance, or close, and then...

(“Mom, look out!”)

...the ceiling collapsed above us.

When I came to a few moments later, I was stuck under a bunch of burning ceiling, and I could hear Mom calling out to me and Emi from near me. Eventually, I spotted Emi staggering to her feet outside of the pile, with a pretty clear avenue to escape.

But... I could feel it. The pile was beginning to shift.

_I LOVE YOU mo roku ni iwanai_

_(I can't even tell you I love you...)_

_Kuchibeta de honma ni bukiyou_

_(I'm really clumsy and bad with words.)_

(“Emi! Grab Mom and go! Just _go_! Hurry!”)

I didn't think it'd last long enough for her to get more than one of us, so I started pleading with Emi, please, just grab Mom and go. I don't know if Mom could feel the pile shifting from where she was, because she didn't say anything about that, she just asked Emi not to abandon me. But... no doubt Emi could see it. I knew from the look in her eyes, even through the tears, and she was tearing up from the smoke. And... well...

(“Come on!” “_No!_ I told you to grab Mom, damn it! What the hell do you think you're doing?!” “I'm saving my little brother! Shut up and help me—”)

It was pretty last-second... if she hadn't saved me then, I'd definitely be dead. It felt like the second I saw Mom's face from outside of the rubble... she was _gone_. And I saw a bit more blood.

_Na no ni... na no ni, doushite_

_(But then, why, why on earth...)_

_Sayonara ha ieta no_

_(...was I able to say goodbye?)_

We both had to go to the hospital for smoke inhalation when the paramedics came, but we both lived. And when I saw her, even though I was so relieved she was okay, even though I could've broken down crying right there from the fact that I hadn't lost my sister...

I...

(“What the _hell_ did you have to go and do that for, huh?!”)

I yelled at her.

_Dame da ne! Dame yo, dame na no yo_

_(It's useless! I'm hopeless, just hopeless.)_

(“I told you to save Mom, didn't I?! Why didn't you listen, huh?! Emi!” “I—”)

_Anta ga, suki de, sukisugite_

_(I love you... I love you too much.)_

I was mad at her. I was mad at her for saving my life. All I could think about was watching my mom die, and so I was so mad, there were... tears in my eyes, even though I should've just been happy she was alive, you know?

Emi was twenty-two at the time, so she became my legal guardian. She wasn't the default, I did have other relatives, but... she volunteered. When I asked her why, she said it was because she didn't want to lose me. I got mad at her for that, too. Not for the guardianship, for the... you know.

_Dore dake... tsuyoi osake demo_

_(No matter how strong the drink,)_

So then we started living together, just the two of us. We were lucky. I think a lot of people, after the incident, didn't have anyone to go back to at all... We—I was lucky. I was lucky to have survived...

_Yugamanai, omoide ga_

_(I can't wipe out these memories...)_

and I was lucky she still loved a brat like me.

_Baka mitai..._

_(I'm an idiot.)_

The next few years weren't much better, honestly. We tried our best, but both of us were really shaken up about the whole thing... yeah, I know, shocker. I kept myself locked up in my room for, like, a week after the incident, and even after I came out I felt like something had died inside me, like all the things I was seeing and feeling were through some kind of grayed-out filter and all the color had been drained from the world. I couldn't really... feel happy anymore, it felt like. Or excited, or really anything positive... I was just sad. All the time.

Well... except when I was mad at her. I yelled at Emi... well, it feels like a lot, but I guess I don't know exactly how much it was. She tells me I actually didn't do it very often, but, well... you know. I'd yell at her for small things, for big things, and I didn't even know why, really.

I was in high school, and she started working odd jobs to make ends meet, since being a teacher isn't the best-paying job. Sometimes, she'd get home so late that the only reason I saw her was because I couldn't go to sleep on time. But... well, I was a C student. I barely stayed afloat because I was so lethargic in classes. Old friends from middle school said it was like I'd become an old man overnight. I was a pretty hot-headed kid before that, you know, but... wait, I already said that, didn't I. Sorry.

_Baka mitai, hontou baka ne_

_(I'm a real piece of work...)_

_Anta shinjiru bakari de_

_(I just kept on believing in you.)_

And Emi just... well, okay, I make her sound like a perfect angel, but she was a person like anyone else, I just wanna make that clear. She had her moments of bad temper, and I got some of my foul mouth at the time from her. She wasn't—she _isn't_ perfect... but she's my sister, and during those four years I saw her so vulnerable. She'd have shot back at me for yelling before then, but she just started taking it after that... She tried to look strong, like everything was okay, like she wasn't breaking down, and I tried to ignore it when I heard her sobbing in her room after a day's work.

Sometimes, that bugged me, too. It reminded me of Mom. Some part of me didn't want to feel like I was letting Emi replace her. It was a stupid thought, but... you know. I was still a kid. She was doing what she had to, and I just...

_Tsuyoi onna no furi_

_(Pretending to be a strong woman,)_

_Setsunasa no yokaze abiru_

_(you stood, cloaked in a sorrowful night wind.)_

Ugh, sorry. I'm trying to explain this and I keep getting emotional. So, I was about sixteen when I got behind the wheel of a car—yes, this is relevant. I'd been hanging out with some older guys after school to try and find something to do with myself. I'd done some pretty nasty stuff to myself to try to feel anything again, but thankfully I didn't fall into any life-threatening habits... well, anyway, they asked me if I wanted to try driving, and they were laughing but I shrugged and said sure, why not.

The last time I'd thought about cars was before the incident, when I'd started studying the driving laws so I could get a lot of preparation in, uh, well beforehand. It made sense at the time. Anyway, I was honestly surprised how much I managed to internalize, but when I got out to this field, this empty dirt road where nobody and nothing was but me... I looked out and saw the city in the horizon, whipping by, and I realized that all of a sudden I was happy again.

_Hitori ni natte sannen ga sugi_

_(It's been a long time since I became alone,)_

_Machinami sae mo kawarimashita_

_(long enough for the cityscape to change.)_

I couldn't get my own car yet, but Emi probably noticed my mood improving when I started illegally driving behind the scenes. The feeling of going fast, of putting my arm out a window and letting the wind blow against it—I felt at ease for the first time in a long time, when I was at the wheel. But... if I couldn't do it legally, that just meant I was spending less time at home. Even as my mood improved, I started seeing Emi less and less, because I was spending my spare time going out and picking up whatever cars I could and putting the pedal to the metal.

Well, I mean... I guess I was still angry. Deep down, I was still mad at her. Maybe I didn't want to feel things in a life I didn't want to begin with.

But...

_Na no ni... na no ni doushite_

_(But why... why is it)_

_miren dake okizari_

_(that my regrets haven't changed, too?)_

Being a rough and tough illegal driver kid means you get into lots of fights, and I was trying to hide my bruises, too. I got good enough at the whole fighting thing that it wasn't too bad, but I think Emi could still tell that it was taking a toll on me from the days I'd come home and slam immediately into bed. Fake rushes and thrills like that wear you out, y'know? So...

Well, when I turned eighteen... I found out she'd been saving up for this whole time. Heh, she told me... 'Happy birthday, Wataru, you can have it when you come back from driver's camp.' It was that car you saw; at the time, it was pretty nice. I passed with flying colors at driver's camp, since it coincided with my summer break, so I got to be the big man on campus with a license for a bit.

And then... well.

You know.

_Honma ni, roku na, otoko ya nai_

_(I really am an awful man.)_

(“—update on the hostage situation going on at the Kansai Super on—” “...Wait, what?!”)

_Soroi no yubiwa hazushimasu_

_(I'll take off this ring we bought together.)_

I was out driving at the time. Emi needed me to pick her up from the supermarket, but I figured I could make it in time if I drove as well as I knew I could. Then, as I was out, there was... there was a news bulletin on my smartphone, about the... robbery. There were some live camera feeds, and when I looked at it—

(“—a social demonstration! This society of ours is fundamentally broken! How can we live under a government which hides the truth about—” “—! Emi!”)

—that guy, Kokeyama... he was holding Emi hostage.

_Zamaa miro, seisei suru wa_

_(The thought of deserving it is kind of a relief...)_

My eyes went wide, and I just... couldn't think of anything else.

_Ii kagen, mattete mo, baka mitai_

_(Even if I wait forever... I was still an idiot.)_

So I sped off. I was pretty far away at that point, because I'd been showboating to make myself feel alive and all, but wouldn't you know it, the one cop who hadn't been called in for this situation—I guess she was too far out—caught me on the way there. And I...

I tried to explain. I really did... but I got that ticket all the same. I got held up to be penalized on the road. Heh, 'you just got that license, you shouldn't be so hasty to lose it.' Every second I felt my heart pounding out of my chest, my... I think I was starting to cry. Maybe I knew... what was about to happen.

The shot was fired when I was almost there. If I hadn't gotten held up, I would've made it in time, but I heard it over the phone. I heard people freaking out about it, I heard yelling, and all I could think of was getting in there. I sped in, and... I saw him, there, in the lot. Kokeyama. He was running.

What I should've done was go inside to find Emi. I should've... I know that. But instead...

(A heavy panting, and the sound of footsteps. “You...”

“Wha—? A kid...?”

“You son of a bitch... I'll _kill you_!”)

You said it was a 'spinal ependymoma', right? I could tell the guy wasn't all that fit to fight as I started wailing on him. He'd probably never thrown a punch in his life before, and here I was beating the everloving crap out of him. Because he... he hurt my sister. I didn't... want to be alone anymore.

(“What the fuck right do you have to hurt innocent people, asshole?!”

“You... you—hrgk! I've got... I've got bone cancer... nobody'll treat me! What the hell's with that, huh?”

“What the fuck right does that give you to hurt innocent people?! _That was my sister, you goddamn son of a bitch!_ You... you killed...!”)

I was... screaming, sobbing, by the time he was on the ground. I was straddling him, punching him in the face over and over... He was a complete wreck by the time the police came out and stopped me, and I was just yelling. No words, just yelling. They came out and they stopped me, and started putting up caution tape after they took him in. And then I realized—

(“_Emi—!_”)

But even as they carried her into the ambulance... I saw her, and I couldn't get past the caution tape, they wouldn't let me see her... and all I could think was, if Mom was here instead of me... could she have saved her?

I had to pay off the fine on my ticket, but once I did that I hurried over to the hospital. Her wound was really serious, and... well, it was a few days before I was actually cleared to see her, and I spent the whole time crying, thinking I was going to lose the one person I still loved. I barely left the hospital... I slept in the car when they made me leave. But then...

(“Mr. Nishikiyama?” “—! What? Yeah?” “I've got good news, and bad news. The good news is... she's going to live.” “_—!_”)

...when I came into the room, she was awake, sitting up.

_Dame da ne! Dame yo, dame na no yo_

_(It's useless! I'm hopeless, just hopeless.)_

(“_**EMI!**_” “Wataru—”)

_Anta ga, suki de, sukisugite_

_(I love you... I love you too much.)_

Even though I probably shouldn't have, I ran over to her and I cried the hardest I've ever cried. I lost my words, and she gently chided me a few times about it. I kept saying, 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,' over and over again. And... that was the first time in four years that I told her—

(“I was... I was so scared, I didn't wanna lose you, I... Emi, I... I love you, I love you...” “...I love you, too, Wataru.”)

_Dore dake... tsuyoi osake demo_

_(No matter how strong the drink,)_

_Yugamanai, omoide ga_

_(I can't wipe out these memories...)_

—what she really meant to me.

_Baka mitai..._

_(I'm an idiot.)_

Emi lost the use of her legs, but even though she didn't blame me, she told me that over and over, I still felt like I needed to step up to support her. I started working just as hard as she had, before, even before I was out of school.

_Honma ni, roku na, otoko ya nai_

_(I really am an awful man.)_

I—we—started getting treated for our brain problems, and I tried my best to shape up. Like I said, I wasn't always good at the whole showing my emotions thing... she... Emi did her best to give me a good childhood, but... it was time for me to grow up, I guess.

_Soroi no yubiwa hazushimasu_

_(I'll take off this ring we bought together.)_

It's not like our life together is bad... It feels like things have mostly gone back to normal, I can feel alive again, just... maybe I've gotten to her level. But... every time she hugs me, I remember what I did, how I hurt her, even if she doesn't blame me. It's like... heh, it's like her arms are blades, I guess.

_Zamaa miro, seisei suru wa_

_(The thought of deserving it is kind of a relief...)_

But even though things are better now... I still wonder at night, sometimes. Would she have gotten hurt like that... if she hadn't saved me? If it had been Mom who'd lived that night, and me? I know it's a stupid thought, but...

...I...

_“Nan nano yo, kono namida?”_

_(“What am I crying for?”)_

_“Baka mitai...”_

_(“I'm an idiot...”)_

* * *

It was silent, for a time. As Wataru began to cry, nobody could think of anything to say. He was much quicker about crying than I would've been, though. His eyes were red and his nose was running a little, but he managed to regain his composure within a minute.

“You know, your brain actually does age faster when you're depressed,” Zoe said. She was quiet, and somber. “In a way, maybe you did grow up faster than your peers.”

Being next to Wataru at this moment was probably somewhat awkward, but Zenji did his awkward-time best, raising his arm to pat Wataru on the shoulder. “Sorry,” he said.

“You—!” Ryo started, but then he began to mutter to himself. “Gerbera, Gerbera...”

If anyone here had been expecting a great showdown, then they certainly would not receive it. Kenichiro looked at Ryo, frowned, crossed his arms, and then said, “I doubt I need to tell you this, but... nobody could've seen that coming. You don't need to blame yourself so much, kid.” Ryo nodded.

Wataru snorted, turning to nod at Zenji in thanks before responding. “Yeah, you don't need to tell me that.” He smiled through his weakness. “Thanks for listening. And... thanks again for giving me time, Mai.”

“Did it help you?” I asked.

Nodding, Wataru said, “Yeah.” He turned his head to Phanuel, who was standing, a bit sniffly itself, behind us all. “That's it, right? I don't wanna hold us up.”

Phanuel just had an “Mmhm” to offer, itself, before it took a breath. (Did it need to breathe?) “Thanks, Wataru. You've been a great first Sinner.”

“Let's get through this so we can all talk afterward, then,” Wataru said, standing up, dusting himself off, wiping his tears. “I—”

“But what do you want us to do?” Anzu asked, unable to look at him. “What are we supposed to vote?”

“Well...” Wataru had to rub his chin there. “If I had to choose—”

And then it all went **black**

and I saw Wataru sitting in a chair, in the next room—a plain room only decorated by its great glass wall, through which you could see the sand, the green, the ocean, the sun, every part of this virtual world displayed in a beautiful panorama.

“So this might be the last sight I ever see, huh?” Wataru said, chuckling to himself. “...It's not bad. You did a good job, Doctor.”

There was a quiet _thunk_ behind him.

Then a second.

And then—

“Thank you,” Nagisa said.

A third _thunk_

and twelve of us were back in that circle. Tsukihi and Ryo seemed a bit less disoriented than the others, as Juri looked around frantically, going, “What? What's going on, did I black out?!”

“I haven't done that in quite some time!” Park wailed, holding his cap over his eyes.

Tsukihi held her hand up, and most of us became quiet. (Park could not see her hand.) “The vote was just held. I was placed in one of those small, black rooms, with the terminal online.” With this knowledge, she crossed her arms, and continued, “In the interest of full disclosure, I voted to 'Eject' Nishikiyama.”

“Why?” Saori asked.

“If someone is ejected from this simulation, all the faster we can leave,” Tsukihi said, and Saori nodded, because that made sense. She turned her head to Ryo, who looked similarly with it, and said, “Ryo?”

“...'Exonerate',” Ryo said. He could not meet her eyes.

“I won't blame you for that,” Tsukihi said. “Which of us was the third voter?”

But, curiously—_nobody responded._ Tsukihi frowned, and Minato hummed. “Uhh... wasn't me,” he said, looking around. “Guys?”

I began idly walking toward the doors to the other room, which were now open, but I was stopped when I heard a loud noise from one of the voting indentations. I called out, “Everyone, look!”

The left terminal had lit up blue. 'Eject'. “Oh, yeah, this is how we show the votes,” Phanuel said, having ducked down so that we could see the terminal behind it. 'Exonerate'. Green.

And the third, on the right—

“Eh?” I gasped. Others had similar noises of surprise.

A bright red. 'Execute'.

“Oh come on now, a tie in the _first round_?” Bella put her hands on her hips. “Votin' fraud. Definitely votin' fraud.”

“This is no fraud,” Nagisa said from the intercom. “The vote for Wataru's fate is as you see—a three-way tie.”

And then I began to feel a chill down my spine. “What's the result of a three-way tie?”

“Well—” Phanuel looked a bit perturbed, but Nagisa charged over its voice.

“_Execution_ takes priority.”

If the sound of electricity from the other room was not enough indication,

then certainly Wataru suddenly letting out a pained wail would be.

“What?!” Phanuel's eyes widened. “Nagisa—!”

“_Wataru!_” Ryo cried, scurrying past me, dashing into the other room.

“No—no, no, no—!” Park, too.

“This can't—?!” Zoe.

So, in all, I was fourth into the room to see it. To see Wataru Nishikiyama, the Prince with whom I had been talking just a moment ago, strapped into a chair with visible electric currents running through his restraints.

His eyes were open, so he could see us, and he tried to keep on a tough face, but this assault on his body would not let up or let him save face.

“Wataru, Wataru!” Ryo cried, running over to the chair and trying to yank off Wataru's restraints, but recoiling from a zap to his own hands.

“I—” I began. But—

“You've got to be _**kidding me**_!”

As people flooded into the room, it was Zoe who stomped her foot, yelling towards the ceiling. “On the first round, without even telling us the rules properly beforehand?! What kind of game do you think this is that kills a man through a rule exception before the exception is even explained?! Please, don't kill him, I'm _begging_ you not to kill him!”

“Dr. Kitachi—” Minato's eyes were wide. Bella looked like she was about to vomit.

Park, then— “You said this was about the truth, right? Please, please, please don't kill him! Even if you hate him enough to keep him here, doesn't he deserve the truth, too? Please, _please_, Doctor Ayana, I—I'll even let you take me instead, I—”

“Oh god, oh god...” Saori was curling into herself.

“Please...” I was, too, stepping back, unable to keep myself together. “Please, don't do this, Nagisa...”

But she was impassive—

and then

with an audible _click_, Wataru's restraints were released

as he fell to the ground... _groaning_. I don't know which of us, exactly, shouted his name, then. His body was smoking just a touch, and he was clearly in a great deal of pain, but Wataru Nishikiyama was... alive.

“Get him to the infirmary!” Tsukihi commanded, snapping her fingers, and Zenji nodded, picking Wataru up on his back and starting his way off. “Aoyama, you, too! Hurry!”

“Right.” Saori nodded, her vigor suddenly restored as she hurried her steps behind Zenji's. Tsukihi, too, and Ryo hurried behind them, too.

I know we wound up in the elevator after that, but I don't remember the trip, only my body's exhaustion as I slumped against the wall of the elevator. Wataru was still groaning. “You still with us?” Minato asked him, and though he was still gregarious, I could easily see the undercurrent of horror under his voice.

After a few more groans, Wataru managed to pull himself together enough to say, “That... wasn't what I had in mind...”

“Shut up!” Anzu snapped, and Wataru did so.

And once the elevator door opened, and we all began running—Nagisa's screen followed us. “Phanuel begged me, as well, so I suppose I can give you this one exception... but it will not happen again.”

It was only then that I noticed Phanuel clinging to Kenichiro's waist, looking just as concerned as the rest of us. It was an astonishingly silly sight for such a dire situation, so it got me to snort despite myself. “The next round will begin tomorrow. Prepare yourselves, and ideally, ensure Mr. Nishikiyama is in working condition. And remember—

“This is a game for finding the truth about that night,

a truth which lies within your memories.

Know this—

your sins will out,

_and my brother will receive his due penance_.”

There was a pause, and then she parted with one last comment, one which made my blood run cold—

“**Reach me, Yuki.**”

_-Rainflower Game, Part 2-_

_-Welcome to Sinner Hunter-_

_~Fin~_


	15. Pheasant's Flight, 1 ~ Elegy for a Teacher

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone. It's Kinu. The 'Pheasant's Flight' arc is not part of Yuki's manuscript- it will be interspersed at appropriate moments for flavor and context, but don't expect any of Yuki's interjections. In the samurai's shadow, the pheasant takes flight.

When she came into work that day, her coworkers, her students, all reacted with shock. Hadn't she been given the week off for a family emergency? Surely she shouldn't be back yet, right?

To these questions, Emi Shinoe gave this response to her students—“If you brats want a free pass you should transfer to another school.” This was the sort of lovably acerbic repartee that Shinoe-_sensei_ was known best for, you see. It was also appropriate, as the district had received a surprising influx of new student teachers recently; and as a crotchety old crone of thirty-two, Emi was honor-bound to give them hell.

In particular, she was fond of wryly shaking her head with her shoulders raised, with a one, two, three syncopation. “Oh, come now,” she would say, “do I look like I want to let you off easy?”

From the smiles on her students' faces, though, she knew they were happy to see her, and her them. Her homeroom was largely ninth-graders she'd known for ages now, kids who were already well on their way into that painfully awkward teenage period. “No matter what you do,” she liked to say, “you can't be _more_ of a pain than my little brother.”

She would not be saying that today.

Today, during homeroom, one of Emi's students came up to ask her something in specific. This was a dusty blonde girl of what Emi understood to be German Jewish heritage, though she was as Japanese as the rest of her class, as well. She had something of a foul face, but Emi knew she was a kind girl at heart. “Miki,” Emi said, nodding her head as Miki sat down across from her. “It's good to see you. How are things at home?”

Miki shrugged. She was one of those sorts of students who only barely met uniform regulations, preferring to wear the uniform's jacket like it was a cardigan—a taste she had developed, apparently, quite early. “She won't shut up lately.”

“Ah, about that boyfriend of hers?” Emi asked, and Miki nodded. “Are they official yet?”

“Ugh, I guess,” Miki said, leaning back. “As official as anything with Yayoi gets.”

“I'm sure she has the capacity to be very openly loving once she stops being an idiot,” Emi said, and Miki smirked and nodded. “I hope the lucky boy knows what a privilege it is to date a Murasaki.”

—Ah, to explain. Miki Murasaki lived with her older sister Yayoi Murasaki. They'd moved to this town some years back for the sake of a medical treatment for an illness Miki had suffered from, but wound up not leaving when laxer child labor law enforcement in this area meant that Yayoi could use her muscular bulk, which was in fact quite something, to actually do work and thus support the two of them, as their sadly deceased parents could not be doing much of that.

“But of course you didn't come up here to chat about your sister's love life,” Emi said, raising an eyebrow. “What is it?”

With a heavy sigh that belied her youth, Miki's shoulders slumped and her head fell over. “I don't... know what I wanna do with my life.”

Some of the older members of staff might not agree with this statement, but in Emi's very professional opinion, they could go suck it. “Plenty of people don't at that age,” she said, “it's nothing abnormal.”

Miki raised her head and stared, and at that point Emi knew she was going to have to give the exception. “Yes, yes,” Emi continued, “I _know_ how Shizuka and her family are, but they're exceptions.”

Another heavy sigh. “How am I supposed to feel when my best friend's a world-class baker at fourteen and my older sister's already working two jobs?” Miki asked, and Emi thought that was a reasonable question. “You always tell us you wanted to be a teacher since you were a kid, too. And Wataru—”

There was a look on Miki's face that Emi knew well, when she said that. It was Miki's internal self-loathing look, her _oh, damn, I said the bad thing, why did I say the bad thing, god damn me and my big mouth_ look. “_Wataru_,” Emi said, advancing to not give Miki's brain devils the chance, “did not get behind his first steering wheel until he was sixteen. At your age, he sat in his room doing nothing, five days a week, barely even _talking_ to his sweet older sister.”

“I—” Miki started.

“And he wasn't legally supposed to get behind the wheel until he was eighteen,” Emi continued, “and I most certainly would not have let him if I had had any power to stop him at the time.”

Another heavy sigh from Miki. “But I don't have any clues,” she said. “I don't...”

“You should really just be worrying about living your life right now,” Emi said.

“But I don't wanna be _useless_,” Miki said, pushing back.

Emi shook her head, reaching over and putting her hand on Miki's shoulder. “Please give yourself the chance to be a child, Miki. You deserve that. You don't need to worry so much right now. Your sister isn't working to bully you into working yourself, you know.”

—When one lived in a small country town like they did, it was a matter of course that one would come to know most of the people who lived there, so the Murasakis were acquainted with the joint Shinoe-Nishikiyama household outside of this school context as well, by now. Miki was a perceptive girl, so Emi had no doubt she saw some parallels in her and Wataru to herself and Yayoi.

Under her breath, Miki muttered, “Kinda wish she was...”

“Be kind to yourself, Miki,” Emi said, placing her index and middle fingers on her forehead to steady herself. “Have you considered seeing a doctor about this?”

That got Miki to look a little baffled. “About what?”

“At the very least, I'd recommend a counselor. I know I'm very great and all, but it seems to me like there are underlying issues that you can't deal with _just_ by talking to your homeroom teacher,” Emi said. She smiled as brightly as she could. “Think it over. And try not to worry Yayoi too much—I would hate for her to blow a gasket and come pounding on my door again.”

* * *

It was a plain day of work in a plain manner for a plain woman. In a way, she couldn't bear to stay away because her students were like her children, shall we say—and for a woman with no family, it was nice to feel so.

Shinoe-_sensei_ waved her hand to her students as she left for the evening and began to head home, and slumped into her wheelchair as she did as exhaustion set in. Left, right, left, left, forward, forward, left, and there it was. Moving with an electric wheelchair was less monotonous or tiring than it had been with her feet those years ago, so distances in a commute seemed more immaterial.

In front of her house... was a person. She couldn't muster up the energy to be too surprised, but she didn't know this person. Long, straight, orange hair, and green eyes, with neutral skin that said that they had spent a long time not going outdoors. In a black suit and pants, they stood, holding a silver briefcase, staring up at Emi's home.

“...Can I help you?” Emi raised an eyebrow, and headed over to look up at her own house with this person. She couldn't tell whether they were male or female, even—they were quite androgynous.

A small breath exited the person's slightly open mouth as they turned their head to Emi. “May I... come in?” After a moment's hesitation, they clarified with a hint of nervousness, “I have business, but visiting hours at the hospital I'm going to are over by now.”

Emi shrugged. “You might as well. Stay out of the rightmost room, though, that's my brother's. Do you have a name?”

“Kiji,” the person said.

“I like pheasant. Can I cook you?” Emi asked, and Kiji shook their head.

So, the home of Emi Shinoe had two people present in it that evening. Kiji was not a loud person, but still it felt oddly comforting to have someone else around. “I'm sorry it's so quiet,” Emi said, scurrying around to make dinner for two, “but my brother's gone right now. What's in the briefcase?”

She had asked that question expecting it to be brushed off, but Kiji, with the same flat face, opened their briefcase and produced something that Emi, along with many ordinary Japanese citizens, did not see often—a gun. The safety was on as they lifted it up, pointing it away from both themself and Emi. “There are a few more,” Kiji said, “but they're like all like this one.”

“...Who are you supposed to be, a hitman or something?” Emi asked, and again, she had asked that question expecting it to be brushed off, but Kiji nodded. “What.”

“Yes,” Kiji clarified. “I can do a number of things, but assassination is my primary training.”

A cold sweat would've gone down Emi's neck if she were feeling more with it. “Am I harboring you on the way to an assassination?” she asked, and Kiji shook their head. “But you have business.”

“Personal business,” Kiji clarified. “I'm not on a job. These guns are my property now, and I'd rather have them on me at the moment.” They paused, and Emi took the moment to trust them and get back to work. “Your brother is gone,” they continued.

“He is,” Emi said, nodding, looking into the pot of boiling water she had on, barely managing to see her own tired reflection.

“What sort of man is he?” Kiji asked.

After a pause, Emi said, “His name is Wataru, and he's a really good guy, I think. He's sensitive, quiet, ready to get into a tumble to protect the things he cares about... heh, sometimes I think he's more grown-up than me these days. I always ask him when he's gonna bring someone home, 'cause I know he's interested in that kind of thing, but he'll never talk to me about his love life. Says he's got his hands full with me”—and that got Emi to make a snorting, honking noise—“and first off, that's ridiculous, and second, sometimes I think he's a little caught up in all that.”

“Caught in the past?” Kiji asked.

“Yeah, that's the ticket,” Emi said, raising her hand and wagging her finger. “I mean, the guy's just gotta look to the future. Find a nice...” Pause. “Huh. I wonder. Is it gonna be a wife or a husband? Could go either way. Anyway, he's a big car racer guy, does some other big boy stuff, too. When he shows up on TV a bunch of people come over to my house to leave their thanks for him when he gets back. He's one of those small-town celebrities, always kind of was... and for some reason”—and at this she held her finger back—“every time the Oborozuka Revue comes in to do their murder mystery shows, Wataru gets to be the patsy. We've all just decided that's his job, I guess.”

“The what?” Kiji asked, but Emi didn't bother answering them, because that was common knowledge by now, and Kiji being out of the loop didn't register to her.

“So—what hospital are you going to?” Emi asked. “Are you going to visit a relative, or?” She turned her head over her shoulder to see Kiji shaking their head. “Secret?”

“Yes,” Kiji said, and that was that.

“Not much of a talker,” Emi observed, and Kiji nodded. “Guess it comes with the job.”

“...You aren't very worried,” Kiji observed, as Emi turned back around to deliver dinner—overall plain bowls of pork udon.

Emi needed only to take one look at Kiji, and their small, almost frail language and frame, to know that despite everything—“You couldn't hurt a fly, buddy.” And she smiled. “Unless you were paid to. Plus, I…” She wistfully looked away, with a rueful smile. “I can’t have it in me to be afraid of guns anymore. Can you even fire those things?”

“Yes,” Kiji said. They nodded. “It took quite a long time to learn not to dislocate my arm.”

Snorting, Emi asked, “Been in the business long?”

“Three years,” Kiji said, and that was that. The two began to eat.

The sun fell through Emi's open blinds as it continued to set—night would soon approach, and Emi would at least have someone else in her home. “People in the country,” Kiji said, “are very welcoming.”

“Yeah,” Emi nodded. She smirked and leaned forward, one elbow on the table, placing that same hand into her hair and looking out the window. “I was a city girl when I was born, and I was so shocked by how nice and welcoming people can be out here. Don't get me wrong, it's not perfect or anything, but it's...”

“Nice,” Kiji said, and Emi nodded, agreeing.

“So that's a codename, right? 'Kiji'?” Emi asked, and Kiji nodded. “Ooh, a real codename. I—”

“Did it hurt?” Kiji interrupted, and Emi was briefly confused before they continued, “Living by yourself, supporting two people. Becoming a parent to your younger brother. I heard about it from some of your neighbors. Did it hurt?”

With a brief nod to her own common sense telling her that Kiji was awfully weird, Emi answered, “Yeah, it did.” She took a deep breath in. “He was... miserable. So was I, I guess. It was like—well, I kind of had to brush it off, but it was like this grey filter on reality after—” She looked away, and caught herself. “—after our parents passed. Everything went all grey, and I just had to keep going. I worked two or three jobs every day, and then... I'd still have to see him looking at the wall like he wanted to cry when I got home. Wasn't easy. I'm lucky I had my degree down by that point. Sometimes, it all got so bad I... I thought I was just going to keel over and die, you know how people used to do that sometimes before the labor addenda got passed?”

Kiji nodded. “Yes.” There was a pause, but then they added, “But you did it.”

“Yeah,” Emi said, nodding. “I... guess I did.” There was another while of silence as the two resumed eating until she continued, “What's with the twenty questions?” Kiji didn't respond. “Curious? In the mood for a little human feeling?”

All Kiji had to respond with was a very late, “Thank you for the meal.”

Emi shrugged. “Well, alright. Enjoy the insight, friendly neighborhood assassin. Just give me a heads up if someone ever puts a hit on me, will you?”

“Phantom,” Kiji responded.

There was a sudden pause as Emi processed this. “What?” She blinked.

“I'm a wandering phantom,” Kiji said, “searching for how to pass on.” Their face was still flat.

“Well, uh...” Emi said, with a befuddled frown on her face, “I hope I helped?”

“You did,” Kiji said, their face remaining stoic. They looked slightly down. “Thank you very much. May I sleep here?”

“Do spirits need to sleep?” Emi blinked. “Er, are you a literal spirit, or—don't those sorts of things oftentimes hold grudges towards the living—you look surprisingly alive,” and thus did three thoughts somehow stumble out at essentially the same time.

The one Kiji chose to answer as they finished their bowl was, “Not against you, Shinoe-_san_.” They closed their eyes and said, “My grudges... are not so violent, anymore.” There was a wistful, sorrowful look in Kiji's eyes as they said that, and then they said, “I hope your brother returns safely.”

It seemed genuine, so Emi decided to stop worrying about the ghost thing and say, “Yeah... me too.” There was a pause, and she took both bowls over to the sink to begin cleaning her dishes. “Are those guns... loaded?”

“No,” Kiji said. “I only have one bullet left over. I want to learn... where I should put it.” There was another pause. “Not in you. That was not a possibility.”

“It better not be!” Emi said.

With an almost bashful look up, Kiji said, “Thank you for allowing me to stay—” Pause. “—and allowing me to ask you these questions. I'll be gone in the morning.”

“Should I start telling folklore about you?” Emi asked. “The ghostly hitman with one bullet?”

That actually, amazingly, got Kiji to chuckle. “Maybe that would become entertaining,” they said. “Go ahead.” There was even a little smile on their face.

So, with that done, Emi Shinoe bid Kiji a good night and returned to her room. She closed her door, slid a bit further into her room, bordered by the bookcase she kept just by the entrance, and slumped over in her seat. She bonelessly drove herself to her bed, pushed herself off of her wheelchair, and once again sat in her bed, looking at a world that had nothing but grey to offer.

She picked up the card on her nightstand.

_I've taken your brother. I don't intend him any harm, but I will need him for a while. In the event that something does happen to him... you have my permission to take whatever vengeance you desire._

_ -Nagisa Ayana_

And, clutching the card close—Emi began to sob, folding her arms over her chest in a cross as she broke down. “Wataru...” she cried to the moon, from the window by her bed. “Wataru... please... don't go. Don't go, Wataru... don't go...”

The moon shone impassively down on her through the window, and her cries went unanswered.


	16. Nameless Samurai, 1 ~ Homeless

My cell phone was dead, so I had to perform the antiquated action of using a payphone. Thunder rumbled in the near distance as sheets of rain fell from the sky, leaving me more resembling a drowned rat than anything else. Situations like this were why I never wore anything too thin, even in summer—call it a bit of paranoia.

_Shunk _went my money as it rolled into the gaping maw of the payphone. Rrrring. Rrrring. Two rings. There were a few people I could call, at least—well, three came to mind most easily, but it was nearing the end of my therapist's work day, and I didn't want to bother Mr. Crowley in case he was in the middle of something. “Hello? Nishishita residence.”

“Mrs. Nishishita,” I said. “It's Yamada, from 408—”

“Oh, Yuki!” Makiko's voice immediately perked up upon hearing me. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Are you home from work yet?” There was a pause. “Yuki? Are you inside? It's raining horribly—”

“I crashed,” I said. There was a moment's pause in which I took a breath. “My bike broke down as I was making a delivery. I wasn't paying attention... I don't know how to get home, my cellphone's dead, I don't...”

It felt ridiculous, to me. I'd spent a non-zero amount of time completely without a home, and now that I had one, being unable to return made me this frightened? This bike was one I had purchased not so long ago, but now it sat on the curb in a mangled wreck. There were scratches on my body, and a bit of blood streaked down my face from one of them, mingling with the rain to make me not only wet, but disgustingly sticky.

“Oh, Yuki! Don't cry, darling”—and I knew Makiko could hear me sniffling, “I'll be right there. Do you know the address?” I was fairly near an intersection. “Oh, I know where that is, I'll be right there. Try and find some cover, at least, sweetie—”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “C...can you stay on the line? Please?”

There was a moment's pause. “Of course. Do you need to talk?” I let out a whimpered 'uh-huh', and my free hand rubbed the hilt of my katana to try and steady myself. “Alright,” Makiko said. “Remember, it's ten yen per minute.”

“I know,” I said.

First, I talked about school. “I was—really popular in middle school,” I said, still working through some sobs to try and hold myself back from outright bawling, “and I kind of hated it, but it was better than before.”

“Do... you want to talk about what happened before?” Makiko asked. I couldn't help but smile. She was an annoyingly curious woman sometimes, but at the same time, I found that rather charming.

I took a pause. “People... always stayed away from me, when I was a kid. They thought... they thought I was a scary person. Students, teachers... everyone. I didn't really have friends. If they did come near me, they'd mock me. I had a few rocks thrown at me—”

That elicited a horrified gasp from Makiko, as I heard through the phone line the sound of her car getting on the road. “I don't care how scary someone is, nothing justifies that! Did your parents talk to the school about that? They better have!”

“No, they didn't,” I said. “I didn't really talk about it. By the time I would have—”

_**Crrrrack**._

_ My father's flesh burning right in front of me._

_ **Crrrrack**._

_ My mother's broken body._

_ **Crrrrack**._

_ “Help... Help me, please... Help, help, help me...”_

“He always called me a crybaby,” I said, after another moment's pause. “My dad—oh, um... not the same... my second dad,” I continued.

“How many have you had?” Makiko asked. She seemed to register that I wanted to change the subject.

I took a brief count. “Three,” I said. Sometimes, it felt like four... but the answer was three. “But, my second dad... he always called me a crybaby, because I used to cry a lot more. I hate crying, it makes my face feel all gross and sticky and hot, but sometimes I couldn't help myself. But I—”

“Sounds like a real jerk, if you ask me,” Makiko said, and I could hear her rolling her eyes.

“No, no,” I said, and I shook my head though I knew she couldn't see. “No, Kenichiro was... he was... a good man. He was rough around the edges, and we didn't meet at the best time, but he... he was very...”

_“Hey—hey, kid! Stay with me! C'mon, up you go, let's go!”_

_ “My name's Kenichiro Washizu. From now on, I'll be taking care of you. So don't be a pain, got it?”_

_ “C'mon, don't cry. It's not that scary. I'm sure you'll grow up to be a real badass.”_

_ ...and that brief moment of fear, horror, before he looked up from that sheet I had filled out—_

_ “Huh. Yeah, okay, sure, I'll get that sent in, special for you. No worries.”_

“I miss him,” I said. By this point, I was... sixteen, right? This was when I was sixteen... so I hadn't seen him for four years. “Makiko, I'm...” No. No, no, no. I couldn't cry now, not when I'd tried so hard to stop myself. No! Shut up! Stop it! My hand steadied on my hilt. “I don't know... how I'm going to handle this... I don't know where I'm going in life, or what I'm going to do, or—”

“Yuki!” Makiko snapped, and I stopped. “Yuki, sweetie, you're sixteen. It's okay. You don't need to have everything figured out. You just—now's the time when you need to figure out your dreams, and try not to lose them. You're a good person, Yuki, and you're strong. I can tell. You can do it. You can... oh crap, what did I read in that self-help book, why am I blanking now?” Pause. “You can be the hero of your own story!”

“I don't feel very heroic,” I said. I shivered. I was cold.

“Give it some time,” Makiko said. “And let the people in your life help you. I've always thought those 'lone wolf' kind of heroes were so annoying! See, you're doing good by calling me, bet that doctor of yours would be real proud.”

Despite myself, I gave a little chuckle. No, someone like me... “...couldn't be a hero,” I muttered. “Stop being silly, Makiko.”

“You seem like you need some silly right now. Hold on, I'm almost there,” Makiko responded. “Get into the passenger seat, alright? I've got some towels laid out on it so you can start to dry off.”

“I... used to have friends,” I said. “Real ones. I... I miss them. Makiko, I... I don't... I don't want to be alone. I hate being alone, but... but they're gone.” Even the word. I hated even that word, 'alone'. No matter what I was, I didn't want to be alone. “Makiko...”

“...Stay at my house tonight, okay, sweetie?” Makiko said, and there was a soft tone to her voice. “I've got space. Let me help you get cleaned up.”

At the apartment, it would just be me and Mai again. Mai... I was supposed to protect her, wasn't I? At least, I thought so, as I put my hand on the hilt of my sword... but some part of me didn't care about that today, not now, when everything was so gray and my entire body was so soaking wet. “Okay,” I said, and I felt my voice begin to shatter.

Then—a familiar set of headlights through the gloom. “I see you, don't move,” Makiko said. And her car, an old, but reliable model, came to a halt right in front of me.

I hung up the payphone, and my body began again to creak into motion. I moved as quickly as I could, being so waterlogged, and opened the door to see Makiko hanging up her cellphone and putting it into her pocket. The towels she'd mentioned were cute little snowman print ones, and they were layered rather thickly. Before she could say anything, I slipped in through the opening and slammed the door shut.

“You look _horrible_,” Makiko said, her voice laden with sympathy. “Here, I've got a bandage, put it—”

No matter what part of me said, I couldn't stop myself. I lurched over, grabbed Makiko by the shoulders, and began to sob. “I wanna go _home_... I just wanna go home.” She was a warm woman, and her car was warm and dry. After a moment's shock from the cold rain, she leaned into me and hugged me back.

But what did 'home'... mean to me? I wanted to go home, but where was home? Was it Apartment 408? The Orihara residence? No. 'Home' is more of an abstract concept.

When I was younger, I didn't understand what home meant to me. But now, I do. Home is a word that, to me, means somewhere I can feel safe, and rely on the people I love—all of them, without having to make exceptions or lose people.

I felt myself beginning to fade, the weight of the raindrops beginning to fall on me. Rather than starting to dry off, I felt myself falling asleep on Makiko. She nudged me back into my seat gently, and I could tell she was smiling sadly. “It's okay, sweetie,” Makiko said. “It's okay. It's...”

That feeling of home... wasn't here. So, my tired brain reached out to try and grasp it.

“Kenichiro...” I murmured, once my eyes were closed. “Mamoru... Ryo... Ozzie... Mai...

“...Mom...”

* * *

_ **Movement 2: The Lonesome Affliction** _

_Once, there was a puny little microorganism._

_This was a time before humans knew that disease was caused by these microorganisms, or indeed that they existed at all._

_But this microorganism loved humans. Like so many others, it could only exist within them without withering and dying. But existing within them caused them to wither and die, surely as anything._

_Thus did this microorganism become the Lonesome Affliction._

_This Affliction first killed in a small suburb. It targeted the heart, crushing it. Crush, crush, crush. It ate away and away at the heart until it was removed. The veins, body, nothing was spared. _

_It wanted to understand, but a microorganism cannot understand people._

_Then it spread. Spreading, spreading. It spread without thought, without meaning to harm—but its very existence was harm. _

_Soon, this microorganism had killed again, and these humans it had not even touched—only the children of its foul nature._

_Spreading, spreading. A stealthy killer. Uncognizant. Why? Why was this its nature? Until—_

_again it killed, amidst the flames._

_But it was choked, smothered, beneath the flames. It could no longer come to understand its beloved humans from here! And so it languished beneath the flames._

_Perhaps, though, perhaps it could fix itself. Perhaps it could come to exist symbiotically, without being a parasite. The process of mutation is a slow one, but it gestated within the isolation to place itself into a more conducive form._

_And then, finally, someone dug into the wreckage, and found this Lonesome Affliction. Humans it could finally come to understand without death, without pain. How wonderful._

_There was one very special human here. A smart human, someone who could come to understand things smaller than the naked eye could see, and maybe even... wanted to? Could this human be what this microorganism wanted all along? _

_This human had a warm heart. So warm that the microorganism could not help but try and take its place within that heart._

_But then—_

_"I wanted you to guide me... because we sensed our feelings toward each other..."_

_—from the first sign of damage, the Lonesome Affliction knew—_

_that it could not, and could never, escape its nature._

_And the Lonesome Affliction knew the name of the Angel of Judgment._

-'The Book of the Queen', Eighth Report

* * *

Wataru Nishikiyama was a man who everyone could trust. After all, he had just been cleared of his own sin; everyone knew for a fact that he had not done anything wrong just now. As he was laid down, groaning, atop a bed in the infirmary, and Saori began to check over him, everyone was able to breathe a sigh of relief that he was alive.

That was the only thing about this situation that all twelve others present could do together. After all, there were a number of inescapable truths once we all got past the fact that Wataru was alright. Questions that people would have to ask, now that the grace period had ended.

“So who... voted for that?” This question was asked by Juri.

“Those things're... coming for me too?” This question was asked by Bella.

“Who the hell is Yuki?” This question was asked by Anzu.

But the truth was thus. Yes, 'those things'—beasts like the one we had just faced—were liable to appear for each of us in time, unless we confessed beforehand. We would have to not just face our crimes... but face the people, too, in those sorts of twisted manners. The people we did not want to face... the people we could never face again.

And, beyond that—

“Okay, seriously, who the hell voted to kill the guy?” Zenji asked, his voice raising over a din of uncomfortable murmurs.

“You were the one who was all mad at him at first,” Juri responded, looking away, her voice weak. “Maybe it was you—”

“Don't—!” Zoe was twitching up a storm, her hands running through her hair in jerky, stilted motions. “Don't go pointing fingers all of a sudden. Don't we have—”

“Well, Doc, you told us not to talk yet, but we gotta talk now, don't we?” Bella said, holding her hands together and pulling her fingers against each other like locks on a chain. “I mean, we gotta—we gotta, right?”

“What do you suppose this 'truth' is?” Tsukihi asked, sitting in a chair next to the bed as Saori did her work. “Regarding that night—”

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. Everyone was in such close quarters in this stark, white, clean room, panicking, and _Nagisa had just addressed me directly_, and I didn't know what to do. Everyone was moving around so much and everyone was getting all heated and Minato was curling into himself and shivering in a way I'd never seen before and Wataru had just _almost died_ and Kenichiro—

“Kenichiro?” I squeaked, beneath the din, but I know he heard me. He was the tallest person in the room by a fair margin, so it came as no surprise that people noticed him heading through the door. “Kenichiro...”

“Do you know something, Mr. Washizu?” Tsukihi asked, and I inwardly asked why it was that these two Itagakis were so god damned confrontational at the worst possible times. “Are you leaving so you don't need to talk?”

Kenichiro's back was turned, and I saw his shoulders tired, slumping. “I don't... I just can't be here,” he said, and that tone of joviality was completely gone from his voice. “I can't.”

“Kenichiro!” I said, edging towards him, putting my hand out. “Kenichiro—”

“I _**can't**_!” Kenichiro shouted, and when he did so, his voice was painfully loud. “I just—I just can't. I...”

Then, I realized something—something I'd somehow not realized until now. It had been seven years for Kenichiro, as well. He, too, had changed. “Kenichiro...” I said, feeling tears begin coming to my eyes. “What happened? What... happened to you?”

There was a pause, there, as Kenichiro stood, still turned away. There was quiet, somehow. Then, he responded.

“You're the one person... that I would never want to know.”

“_Kenichiro—!_”

And he was gone. He was just going to elsewhere in the same building, but I couldn't help a profound sense of loss beginning to settle into my stomach. This was wrong. This shouldn't be happening. And then—

Before I realized it, Minato had bolted out of the room, too, audibly hyperventilating, letting low, choppy half-screams out from under his breath. Two. “Minato, wait, please, let's—!” Park called out, but it was too late, too.

Two people made it a precedent, so it shouldn't have come as a surprise, then, that Anzu was the next to start leaving. “Anzu,” Tsukihi said, though she didn't shout as Park and I had. “Where are you going?”

“To my room,” Anzu said. She, too, sounded painfully tired. “Do this by yourself, if you want to so bad.”

“Anzu—!” Tsukihi began to chide.

“I don't wanna _see_ him, okay?” Anzu said, turning her head over her shoulder. “Just fuck off already. Leave me alone.” Three.

“Yeah, I'm... I'm gonna go, too,” Juri said, looking toward the floor as she did. Four.

When I felt Dr. Kitachi start to move, too, I felt my tears begin to shake. “Dr. Kitachi—” I began.

“I need some time to think... I'm sorry,” Zoe said, her fingers still running through her hair. “I'm sorry.” Five.

Zenji left without much of a word, and by that point, nobody seemed to be surprised at his dispersal. Six. And—

“I gotta... I think I gotta take some time, too,” Bella said, still pulling at her own fingers, tears beginning to come to her eyes as well. “I'm—I'm sorry, I—”

By that point, I didn't have any response. I just fell to the floor, crying. I probably looked ridiculous, crying over this. Bella looked pained at my sobs, but her legs hurried her out of the room before she could say anything else.

Then... it was finally quiet, save for my sobs. This room was stocked with a number of beds, as well as cabinets full of medical supplies. I had wondered what its purpose was until now, but I supposed it was for situations such as the beast we'd faced in Kansai Super.

Tsukihi sat in a chair, pondering to herself. Wataru was quiet on the bed, his eyes apparently closed, as Saori did her best to treat some of his wounds from his shocks. Ryo was next to me, trying his best to put his arm around me as I sobbed. But... then I felt another hug, one from much thicker arms.

“Um... er, um, there there,” Park said, and I felt him pat my shoulder. “It's alright—er, no it's not, but. Well, yes, you understand... I think. Please don't cry.”

I absolutely hated that the next words out of my mouth were, “You aren't going to run too?” No matter how valid my surprise, I hated that surprise.

When I looked up at Park, his eyes were averted as he said, “Well, I... I... that is... um, well, you see.”

“Use your words, Mr. Park,” Tsukihi commented from her chair.

“I just... think it would be... very uncool of me to abandon my biggest fan in her time of need,” Park said, giving an awkward smile.

Being without most of my restraint, I latched onto Park for comfort. He felt doughy, which didn't surprise me, but was oddly nice at a time like this. “Oh, um, ahaha!” Park laughed. “Um, yes, well... I'm glad I could be of assistance, haha.”

Saori stepped away from the bed to close the door for some reason, and then returned to work. With a grunt, Wataru managed to say, “So that just happened.”

“I'm supposing you were not going to ask us to execute you,” Tsukihi asked.

“Yeah, no, I was gonna ask for you to vote for... uhhh...—rgh ow be gentle please,” Wataru said, as Saori continued her work. “The one that keeps me here.”

“Exoneration,” Park said, and Wataru muttered out a 'yeah that's the one'.

“My apologies, then,” Tsukihi said, her face dour and flat. “My vote against your wishes almost resulted in your death.”

“No worries,” Wataru said, “hindsight is 20/20, as they say. Ow. How am I still conscious?”

“I have no idea,” Saori said.

After taking a moment to calm down while my face was plastered in Park's chest, I took a few deep breaths and looked up. “Thank you, Sensei,” I said, and Park blushed and muttered that it was nothing. “So... may we speak about this?”

“As much as we can with the better half of our number having run off, I suppose,” Tsukihi said. “Mr. Nishikiyama. Did you know anyone on this island prior?”

“I've never seen any of you before in my life,” Wataru said. Pause. “Well—”

“Aside from our shared experience, yes,” Tsukihi said. “Given what all just happened, I would say there are three possibilities.” She steepled her hands. “The first is that someone simply wished to kill you based on their anger about your sin, which would be highly irrational and frankly quite worrying.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Wataru said. “Ow.”

“What on earth could drive someone to do _that_?” I asked, and then looked down. “It's simply not something worth killing over. Wataru-_san_ hardly did anything wrong.”

“I concur,” Tsukihi said. “Given that we've known each other for two days, this is admittedly a surface-level understanding, but I seriously doubt someone here is that specific sort of mentally unstable.” Ryo nodded his agreement. “The second possibility, as I understand it, is that someone feels threatened by this 'truth' Nagisa spoke of, regarding that evening ten years ago.”

“Mm?” Saori murmured.

“There is the _possibility_,” Tsukihi said, closing her eyes, “that someone here might be responsible for that night somehow. I have no idea how, but it is as possible as anything else. The third—”

“—would be to sow paranoia among us by giving the impression that there was a murderer here,” I said, my posture straightening. “We are all 'sinners', after all, so there's a basis for it. If someone wanted to make it more difficult for us to work together in this journey toward Nagisa's truth—”

“I,” Tsukihi cut in, “was going to posit that Nagisa herself took over that vote in order to demonstrate the tie rule, and never intended to kill Wataru.”

Pause. “Both?” Saori asked.

“So you're saying, ow,” Wataru said from his position stuck on the table, “that she picked me firsssstttsss, ow, so that she could force a tie and use me to demonstrate the rule without killing_gggggnnn_ me all the way and, ow, rrgh, also make us think that someone tried to kill me?” Pause. “Ow. Why me?” This was a rhetorical question.

“Well, many works in the death game genre _do_, er, you know, operate by sowing distrust,” Park said. “But she did display herself to us from the beginning, so...”

“In other words, either someone here is unstable enough to attempt murder for some reason or another,” I said, “or it was Nagisa rigging our vote.” I paused to let the room digest, and then continued, “Either way, we should decide on which other option to vote for collectively, as a group. That rule can't come into play if our opinion is united.”

“Ah, but maybe we should, er... decide that... _as a group_,” Park said, and he definitely had a point. “I—”

“Can't really blame 'em,” Wataru grunted from his place on the bed. “I'd... probably have been a bit more apprehensive if I knew there was gonna be a bone spider with my sister's voice.”

Then, we heard a small 'ding!' from the corner, and it was then that I remembered that Phanuel had also come into the room with us, being that it had been silent since we entered. “Oh!” Phanuel started. “The next stage just finished loading, no worries.”

“The next—?” Tsukihi asked, but she cut herself off, shaking her head. “Ah, I understand. They appear immediately?”

“Yup yup,” Phanuel said, nodding. “You can have a bit of a headstart. It'll be pretty obvious where this one is, I think... oh, but I gotta go get ready, guys. And, um—”

“Er, excuse me,” Park said, raising his hand. “Um, er... I have questions. About you, that is. Who... exists, here, now”—and he gestured his hand towards the very physical CG angel model who stood in this room with us. “I—the screens?”

“Oh, those were a little flourish until you guys figured it out,” Phanuel said. It giggled to itself. “Technically, you guys are inside my OS right now, so I can appear however I like. Maybe I'll try out some other stuff, ehehe.”

“So if you didn't want me to die,” Wataru moaned from on his table, “couldn't you have stopped her from shocking me at all.”

“Um... I'm a computer,” Phanuel said, with a sad little frown. “I mean, at the end of the day, the admin has admin rights... I can have opinions, but I have to carry out the vote as it's logged, simple as that. Sorry.”

“And why _do_ you exist?” I asked, and that got Phanuel to freeze. “If Nagisa could run this program by herself, she wouldn't need to give its operating system a personality. Why _did_ she?”

Phanuel had to take a moment to formulate a response—even though it did not have human body language, I could tell that much. “I, um... kind of can't tell you?” It gave a large cartoon sweatdrop which thankfully vanished before it hit the floor. “I'm, um, not allowed. Yet. I think I can eventually? But not yet. Just—”

The look on its face was more earnest than I thought a being like it could manage, for its next statement. “I'm here to help you guys, and I want to make sure you all get through this okay. I really do.”

“Okay,” Saori said, smiling, and it seemed that was the last word on the subject.

Phanuel closed its eyes as it smiled and nodded. “Thank you! I gotta go get ready. See you when you get there!” And it vanished.

In Tsukihi's eyes, and in her body, I could tell that she wanted to go immediately. However, before I could say anything, Ryo started shaking his head at her. “Hm?” She murmured.

“No more,” Ryo said, and all of a sudden I realized that though he'd been sitting by my side holding me earlier, surely he was more exhausted than anyone; I could hardly believe he was managing to stand up after the mental and emotional stress of today. “No more...”

“I see,” Tsukihi responded. She looked at the rest of us, as well, then said, “So you all are aware, if what I see tells me there truly is a 'truth' to be found about that night, I will find it. I will be going tomorrow, no matter which of you choose to join me, but I hope you join me.”

“Didn't you want to get out?” Wataru asked.

“I did,” Tsukihi said, and looked down with a dark expression. “But that was then, and this is now.”

Tsukihi said nothing further on the subject, but part of me felt similarly. Part of me wanted to know what 'truth' Nagisa could be leading me towards.

But another part of me... “I'll take Ryo to his room,” I said, looking around at the other four present as I picked Ryo up in my arms, supporting him as best I could. “He needs to lay down—he's not very strong.”

“Drink water,” Saori said.

“I'm sure Ryo,” I said with a giggle, “knows all about keeping properly watered. Right, Ryo?”

Park began to stand up. “I'll—” Then, though, as he was moving, he cast another glance to Wataru and Saori, and began twiddling his fingers unconsciously.

Picking up on his tic as usual, I told him, “You can stay here to make sure Saori-_san_ doesn't fall asleep on the table.”

“Good point,” Saori said, with a flat nod.

“Don't worry, Sensei,” I said with a firm smile and a nod. “I'm not so fragile I can't manage this—but I do appreciate your concern.”

As I turned to leave with Ryo, I heard Tsukihi's voice behind me. “One more thing, Mai. You reacted rather strongly—I've never seen you freeze like that until now.” I froze in shock, and was glad they couldn't see my face. “Do you know who 'Yuki' is?”

Ryo's expression as he looked up at me—wide-eyed in concern—spurred enough rueful self-pity in me to respond. “Yes,” I said, my body frozen again, no doubt, “but it's something of a long story.” I turned my head over my shoulder to look at her. “May I explain it tomorrow? I _seriously_ doubt it will be immediately relevant.”

“Aww,” Saori said, and I heard that twinge of gossipy curiosity in her voice and inwardly rolled my eyes.

“Of course,” Tsukihi said. “So long as I can trust you to tell us later.” And she raised her eyebrow.

“An Orihara never goes back on her word, Itagaki-_san_,” I said. “If I did, I'd be the shame of my family.”

* * *

“Yuki...” Ryo mumbled as I carried him along. Thankfully, his room wasn't far, and he himself was rather light.

I shushed Ryo, saying, “It's alright, Ryo. It's going to be alright.”

“You aren't...” Ryo trailed off. “You... I...”

Once we were in front of his door, I crouched down to look him in the eyes, put my hand on his head, and said, “Ryo, I swear, _we are going to be alright_. Please trust me. I'll keep you safe. If I know one thing, it's how not to die.”

Much of Ryo's room was as I'd expect—gardening tools, a table for botany studies, textbooks... he had always been like that, as long as I'd known him. With that said, it had been some time, so I wasn't sure what he was into. His blanket had a cute little floral pattern on it, too, but next to it I saw a small audio player as I laid him into his bed.

Picking it up and flipping through, looking at the titles... I saw a fair amount of _Babymetal_ in there. “You, a metalhead?” I asked, and Ryo, sweating in bed, laughed a little. “Well, at least it's the softer sort. What do they call this?”

“Idol metal,” Ryo answered, and I nodded.

“You don't listen to it too loudly, do you?” I asked, and he shook his head. “Good. I doubt you need to.” He shook his head again. “Say, how is Dr. Kawashima?”

Ryo giggled. “The same.”

“Hasn't changed a bit, has she?” I asked, and he shook his head. “Well, that's... comforting.”

Dr. Etsuko Kawashima was one of the head doctors at the facility where I met Kenichiro. Ryo had had a caretaker as well, but had grown most attached to Dr. Kawashima, who performed his weekly physicals, and that was how he'd come to take on her surname, I supposed. I'd figured he'd been adopted out after all when I first saw him here, though admittedly I was a little surprised to hear Dr. Kawashima had deigned to do so—I had found her rather frightening when I was younger, so much of the results of my own, less frequent physicals came to me through Kenichiro.

“You don't seem surprised,” I said, sitting down on the bed next to him, “seeing me like this.”

“Seems...” Ryo trailed off. “..._Shion_, _shiragiku_, magnolia...” He murmured to himself, and I waited. “...Obvious in retrospect.”

“The _shiragiku_ always was your favorite, wasn't it?” I asked, and he nodded. _Shiragiku_ is the Japanese term for the white chrysanthemum—while in some European countries it's used as a signal for funerals, here it is used to mean 'truth'. I giggled. “You did accept it rather quickly.”

Ryo's room wasn't too strongly decorated, and I imagined some of the more eclectic objects, like the massive collection of strangely-colored decorative bottles in one corner, were likely more his mother's than his. “Metal, though?” I asked, raising my eyebrow.

In response, Ryo leaned over to his audio player in my hand, and began navigating through it at a surprising speed. Eventually, he came to a particular song and put it on.

I didn't get the appeal then, and I don't now. I supposed the vocalist's voice itself was rather nice—in fact, outside of the words, which despite a fairly low-key subject matter carried a somewhat harsh tone I found myself surprised by, the voice itself was what occurred to me to notice. “I've heard this voice before,” I said. I thought, and quickly came to my answer—it was the voice of a fairly noteworthy sports commentator, so I'd heard it on my baseball games. “I didn't know she did music.”

Ryo nodded, smiling brightly. “Mmhm!”

Blinking, I responded, “Okay?”

It took Ryo a second to go from the confused stare he wore to light up in realization. He murmured a little, then shook his head, and paused the song near its end to turn it back. “'Backing vocals'.”

I asked him to turn it up a touch, and he did, allowing me to listen. As directed, I listened to the backing vocals. On backup was a somewhat lower voice, one that also, on second listen, sounded familiar somehow, but the memory did not come nearly so quickly. “...Help me out here,” I asked. Ryo frowned sadly. “I see better than I hear.” He looked so sad to see me not recognize it, though, that it did begin to jog my memory through association—what would Ryo want me to recognize, expect me to recognize?

Then, a set of movements came into my mind, a goofy grin, one with more confidence than I could manage, an odd bit of twirling. “Ah—wait.” I blinked. “_Really?_”

Ryo nodded. “Mmhm, mmhm!” Looking at the metadata for the track—something I would've done in the first place if I hadn't felt the need to humor Ryo—sure enough, 'Sagami'. I didn't recognize the _name_, but—

Wait. “Wait. What?” I blinked, and Ryo nodded again. “You've got to be kidding. Both of us?!”

With a proud nod, Ryo nodded. “Yeah. Mmhm.”

“Imagine that,” I mumbled, and placed the audio player back on Ryo's nightstand. “I had no idea.”

His excitement at sharing this revelation with me finished, Ryo's tiredness reasserted itself and he slumped back into bed. “Yuki...” he murmured.

I pat him on the head again, and gave him a small kiss on the forehead, closing the blinds on the window by his bedside so the sunset wouldn't get in his face. “I'll see you tomorrow, Ryo.” And tomorrow—

a new battle would begin.

* * *

“Come on,” urged the doctor into her bedroom mirror. “Come on. Do it again.”

Zoe Kitachi pounded on the frame of her window. “I know I saw it. Do it again.”

The good doctor's hair was falling disheveled, and her face twitched frantically as she stared into her mirror. It reflected her room—easel, canvas, painting supplies, collection of American comic books, tastefully arranged in such a manner that gave her maximal space for her habit of private pacing. There was nothing abnormal in her mirror's reflection aside from the grimacing specter of a frightening psychologist.

Her shoulders slumping, Zoe muttered, “Damn it...” and shook her head. She turned away. “You're not going to screw with me like this. I—”

She shuffled over to her easel, and despite every muscle in her body telling her not to look at it again, she pulled the new paper off to look at the one lying just behind it.

On that paper, in strokes that were not those of Dr. Zoe Kitachi, a severed human hand, pale and ghostly with pearl-white skin, was depicted. It lay in a pool of blood, and if its body was next to it, it was off of the page. In the place where an artist's signature might be expected, there was a blood-red smiley marker.

Looking at the symbol again, Zoe's arms seized up, and in a rush of motion she couldn't quite control she threw the paper down again to block this image from sight. She had tried removing this image. It would not come off of the canvas.

“You're _my_ problem,” Zoe said, gritting her teeth with tears in her eyes. “I'll deal with you myself. Don't involve them. Don't—”

A flash out of the corner of her eye—

where _something_, hideous and deformed, looked from within the mirror at Zoe

but vanished when she looked again.

“Why the games? Huh?! Why the games?!” Zoe, if she had been shouting before, was _roaring_ now, shaking her mirror again. “What's with the mirror? Why the hell are you messing with me like this? Do you think it's funny? I'm not laughing! I'm not—”

Then, that mad energy left Zoe's body, and she fell to her knees, slumping as though her strings had been cut. She put her hands on her face, and tears which had been welling up in her eyes could no longer be walled off by her anger.

“I must not fear,” she muttered to herself, making gestures with her hands that meant nothing to anyone else. “Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration. Be rational. Remain calm. If—”

Her voice cut out before she finished her statement_._ One deep breath. Two. “I must not fear,” she repeated. “Fear is the mind-killer.”


	17. Nameless Samurai, 2 ~ Persons of Interest II

Bidding Ryo's room goodbye, I began to ponder, pacing about in front of his and Park's rooms. Nagisa had kidnapped _us_. Why us? The consideration of my other old friend brought it to mind.

I had mentioned her before in discussion with Kenichiro, but an old friend of mine, the girl Ryo and I had just spoken about was, like us, a survivor of the incident. If she was a public enough figure to play backup vocals for an idol metal band, surely Nagisa could figure out how to reach her.

For that matter, Nagisa had chosen specifically to take _just_ Wataru, and left his older sister, Emi, who was also a survivor. Yet, she'd taken _both_ Anzu and Tsukihi. She was not just kidnapping every survivor of the incident she could get her hands on—there was clearly an internal logic to these specific choices. Some kind of common thread, perhaps, relating to this 'truth' of Nagisa's?

If there was, with so many unknowns still remaining—

(—and the shadow of my father's sin looming over me—)

—then there was little I could do to theorize (aside from, perhaps, commandeer the jeep, figure out very quickly how to drive it, and charge off to this 'next stage' by myself, if I lost my mind). By all rights, I was physically and mentally exhausted from the day's events, so I should have gone to bed.

However, part of me disagreed. Part of me said—no, this is an opportunity. That part of me immediately began scanning the manifest of everything I'd seen after we'd put Wataru on the table to begin with to determine where to go.

I opted not to go to the outside entrance to my destination, instead heading through to the inner doors that joined the outside rooms to the manor proper. It, admittedly, took a moment for me to remember which room was whose, but after an awkward knock and a bit of a conversation with a flustered Dr. Kitachi, who would not completely open her door, my second try was the correct door.

As I knocked on the door, an intensely awkward _squawking_ interrupted a faint sound of something from within the room that I couldn't quite place. “Huh?! What? Huh? What?”

“Sonohara-_san_?” I called. “It's Orihara.”

Knowing Juri, I can tell you almost for certain she spent roughly six seconds paused on her bed stunned that someone like myself would come to her room at all, then three more flipping her head back and forth looking around as though this was some sort of reality television prank. “Uh,” she said, then surely she stood up, looked toward the outside door again, raised her finger, and then sidled horizontally towards the door before puffing herself up and running her fingers through her hair a little to appear at least a little more presentable as she opened the door.

Juri was not presentable. She was in a tank top and a pair of jeans, her otaku spiral glasses proudly sliding down her face before she pushed them up, her hair bun having fallen to its natural length and covered in bedhead. “Heh?”

“Hello,” I said, bowing and folding my hands.

Blink. Blink, blink. Blink. “Uhhh... hi,” Juri said, “Maiiii? To... what do I owe the... honor?”

“You seemed flustered earlier. I thought it might be polite to check in,” I answered.

I could see Juri's eyebrows fall. “Everyone was 'flustered'. Why me?”

A brief internal battle between honesty and kindness was waged within my mind. “I... er, nobody seemed to try to stop you,” I said, with an awkward chuckle. “I felt a little bad—though Bella likely would have had she not been about to run herself.”

“So it's like a pity thing,” Juri said.

“It is not unlike a pity thing in some ways,” I answered, looking upward with a finger placed on my chin. “Though, we are apparently going to be cohabitating for some time, and I also haven't gotten to know you all that much. It was really something of an eventuality.”

Juri slumped over, her glasses sliding off of her face far enough for me to see the intensely befuddled grimace on her face. “Oh my god, can you _turn off_ the protagonisting?”

“What?” I asked.

“The protagonisting! You're acting in a protagonist-like manner!” Juri said, throwing her hands up. “I know I joked about that yesterday, but like, you have a _problem_.”

“'Protagonist' is a vague term, Juri-_san_,” I said.

“I mean, with the bland face, the brown hair, the ahoge, the mystery-solving-ocity, you just—” Juri cut herself off, clenched her hands twice, slumped, and then muttered an, “Uhhh...”

There was a pause. The two of us stared at each other.

“Can I start this conversation over?” Juri asked. I nodded. “Hey, cool, thanks. _Hi_, Mai,” she said, the volume of her voice suddenly rising several decibels, “how's life?”

“Not very good, on the whole,” I answered. “The authority figures in my life appear to have abandoned me.”

“'Adults are the enemy',” Juri said, with a sage nod. “Come in, come in,” she said, and an air that I hadn't personally heard yet, but which I have already introduced, began to enter her voice as she opened the door and gestured me in. “What an honor to have a lovely young lady within my cockpit.”

“Your what?” I asked.

“Just get in here,” Juri said, cutting herself short.

* * *

The infirmary had become home to a contemplative quiet once Tsukihi had left and Wataru's pain had settled, as Saori continued her silent work treating his electrification wounds and ensuring nothing untoward happened to his nervous system. Park was rather stunned to see Saori moving with such dexterity—in his brief time knowing her, he hadn't thought it quite possible.

Park had gone to grab Wataru a glass of water, and once his head was upright, Wataru nodded, thanked him, and began gulping it down at an incredible rate. “Oh,” Park said, “er, you were, um. Very thirsty.”

Every drop of the fluid had vanished within a few seconds. “Yup,” Wataru said, taking a deep breath in as he did. “Thanks, Park.” He smiled.

A second glass was fetched, and Wataru drank it, too. A third. By his fourth, Wataru was finally taking them a bit slower. “Y-you, er—I would think you would, um, vomit if you drank that much that quickly,” Park said, dabbing at the sweat on his forehead. “Are you alright, Mr. Nishikiyama?”

“Wataru,” Wataru said, and Park briefly froze before raising his index fingers straight upwards and nodding his head. “As fine as I can be.” Drink. “Hey—”

He'd taken a fairly severe burn to his left leg, and Saori kneeling down and beginning to treat it again got another hiss of pain out of him. “Sorry,” Saori said, her face not flinching even as she had a moment of facial contact from Wataru's prickly leg hair.

“It's fine, I'd rather be able to walk!” Wataru said, his voice raising and tightening from a twinge of pain as his face twisted for a moment. “I'm—Thanks, you two.” He let out a heavy breath. “Thanks.”

While Saori just nodded and made a small noise, Park's eyes widened and he murmured, “Erm... for what?”

“For staying,” Wataru said. He gave a wry smile. “Your number one fan was in a bit of a state. You'd rather spend that time with me?”

“Well, that is to say, er...” Park trailed off, and began to twiddle his fingers, looking away and blushing a little. “Um, I just didn't think that... you should be left alone... at a time like this, is all. Er, other than Ms. Aoyama, but she's—well, she's a bit busy, so... you do have more creature needs, erm... yes.”

“Ah, see,” Wataru chuckled, “this is more what I'd expect for first date treatment.” When Park turned as bright red as a tomato and began frantically looking away, his glasses fogging up, Wataru raised an eyebrow and said, “What?”

“I-I-I-I-I, er, that is to say, um. Date? I know I, erm... well, that is to say, I mean—”

“I'm kidding, Park,” Wataru said, laughing with a surprisingly bright smile for a man who'd just narrowly avoided death by electrocution.

“Oh,” Park said. “Oh. Oh, okay. I see. Haha! Yes.” He gave an overly dramatic thumbs up. “I understand! Dates!”

“I like dates,” Saori said. “They're tasty.”

“Haha! I have never had a date!” Park said, his voice becoming uncomfortably loud. “I certainly! Wonder if Ryo could tell me intelligent ways to eat dates. Ways to spice up! My culinary experience!”

Saori ever-so-slowly craned her head from Wataru's leg to look up at Park, who was sitting to their left in the chair that Tsukihi had once been seated in. “Please stop yelling.”

“Okay I'm sorry thank you yes,” Park said.

There was another while before anyone spoke. “So the 'truth', huh?” Wataru mumbled, staring up at the ceiling. “You two interested?”

“Er, well...” Park said, grasping his arm and looking downward. “Um... is it—it feels strange of me to say, er, yes. I am.”

“Why?” Wataru asked. “What's wrong with that?”

“Ah, it's just... well, I didn't, um... _lose_ anything in the Massacre like... y-you did, Wataru,” Park said, taking off his cap and laying it in his lap. “I wasn't particularly, um, hurt by it.”

“You're an alcoholic who rants about being worthless to random guys he's just met,” Wataru countered.

“Well, yes, but, um... I-I doubt that has anything to do with it, haha...” Park's chuckle somehow became at least twenty percent more awkward by the time he finished making it. “Er, or, um, well, in the interest of full disclosure, my parents certainly, er, don't... they tell me it's no excuse.” The puckered frown on Wataru's face no doubt told Park what he felt about that. “Well, you see, um, really—”

“You deserve to know the truth just as much as anyone else does even if you didn't actively lose anyone that night,” Wataru said. He snorted. “Is this going to become a running trend? Am I your counselor now?”

“No!” Park started. “No,” he said, looking back down. “It's just—”

“And I seem to remember you offering to die in my place,” Wataru said, and that gave Park quite a bit of pause. “Now, I'll admit, my brain's not in the best shape because I just almost got charbroiled, but Jong-ki Park doesn't seem all that hopeless to me.” Closing his eyes, Wataru chuckled. “Thanks, Park.”

“Oh, I, er... n-no... no prob-problem...” Park was beginning to blush again. “Oh, but really, that just came out in the heat of the moment, I—I'm not nearly so brave as that, aha...”

Wataru snorted again. “Not used to getting complimented?”

“Certainly not by men as cool and dashing as yourself—” Park then realized what he'd just said, and threw his hands over his mouth and ceased, making a small wailing noise.

“Aw, geez,” Wataru laughed, and then looked over at Saori, who was just finishing up the final touches on caring for his torso, with a wry little smirk on her face. “What about you?”

“Mm?” Saori's smirk fell into a neutral expression as she slowly realized she'd been addressed. “Wha?”

“Are you curious enough about this 'truth' to keep going?” Wataru asked, and Saori nodded. “You said you didn't remember it, right?” Saori nodded again. “Sure you want to?”

“I'd like to remember a lot,” Saori said.

That threw a wrench in Wataru's thought process. “Like... what?”

“Everything from before the fire, too,” Saori said.

There was a long, awkward pause as Saori continued working. Park coughed. Wataru blinked. “Wha... do you mind repeating that?”

“My first memory is when I was twelve,” Saori elaborated, and then stopped talking until Wataru made a little gesture to continue. “Oh. Do you want me to talk?”

“_Yes_,” Wataru said, his eyes wide in disbelief. Park nodded his agreement.

“I woke up in a hospital bed,” Saori said. Her eyes grew ever-so-slightly more glassy. “The doctors said I had post traumatic stress disorder-induced psychogenic amnesia, and that my name was Saori. They said that my records and anyone who would've taken me burned up in the fire that I didn't remember, and then they gave me this labcoat and told me it belonged to me before the fire. I think I probably was someone different before the fire, but then whoever that was died and then I was here instead.”

She said all of this in that ever-present monotone, but the absurdity of such a tale was not lost on the two men listening to her. “Oh, dear, Saori... that's awful!” Park said, clutching at his lapels.

“I got put in a foster family until I was fourteen,” Saori said, “and then I got emancipated. I got left a lot of money from whoever had left the labcoat for me, so I hired people to help me when I was too sleepy.”

“Is the sleepiness from the PTSD, or?” Wataru asked.

“Post traumatic stress disorder-induced rapid eye movement visual agnostic narcolepsy,” Saori said. There was a pause as Park began going for his notes. “Shorthand is 'Charcot-Wilbrand type II,' or 'Narcoleptic Charcot-Wilbrand.'”

“Saori?” Wataru asked, and she nodded. “Can you repeat that in terms an idiot can understand?”

“I can't dream,” Saori said, and Wataru made a noise of understanding and nodded. “I have a slight impairment to my ability to visualize objects in my mind, but it's more severe when I'm asleep. I can enter REM sleep, but because of a conflict with my psychogenic amnesia, my brain repeatedly starts and stops itself from visualizing images from my past, and because it does that, no dreams are formed. As a result of brain overactivity, I exhibit symptoms similar to type II narcolepsy at a severe enough degree that I am legally not allowed to drive vehicles.”

There was another pause before Saori added, with an air of awe in her voice, “Wow, I actually got to explain that. Yaaaaaaaay.”

“My _goodness_,” Park said. “Only twelve years old, and with no one?” He inched closer. “I-I can't imagine how hard that must've been.”

Saori shrugged. “Mm. Mmkay,” she said, taking a step back from the bed, “Wataru's okay. Can you take care of him, Mr. Park?”

“Er, yes!” Park gave an unsteady salute. “Yes, ma'am. I will be sure to do that.”

“Yaaaaay.” Saori gave a pair of peace signs, nodded at Wataru, and then turned around.

“Hey, Saori,” Wataru said, and she made a little noise of recognition. “Let's get through this together. Alright?”

“Okay,” Saori yawned. Her head slumped over slightly as her legs began shuffling along, and when she began walking directly toward a flower installation, Park looked toward Wataru, who gave him a nod. Park then hurried over to attempt to direct her toward her room before she fell completely unconscious.

“Oh, er, come on, now, hup to it,” Park muttered, and he wound up supporting Saori on his back when she instinctively went for that sort of support. She was surprisingly light. “Are you alright back there? I, er, I'm not—”

“Mm... too wide,” Saori muttered. “This isn't his back...”

His back? Park wondered. Whose?

* * *

“Okay, so try not to be too handsy with the merch?” Juri asked as I entered into her room proper. From a few odd comments earlier, I'd understood this room was much cleaner than her usual, but I was not prepared for what she considered that to mean—shelf after shelf was littered with models of mecha, angular, sleek, and bulky, along with an incredible collection of Blu-Rays and even some older storage media for things she couldn't obtain otherwise.

If anything was impressive, then, about Juri Sonohara, it was her obsessive record-keeping for these—My untrained eye could recognize that there was some form of very intricate system here I couldn't fully understand. “I've spent over a decade on this collection, Mai,” Juri said, walking up and putting her arm around my shoulder, which got me to jump. She grinned smugly and nodded, using her other arm to gesture. “Behold. Isn't it beautiful?”

“To be honest, I'm most impressed by your television,” I said. The television hanging in the center of all of this was more than I thought someone working on her salary could obtain.

An awkward blush came to Juri's face as she looked away, immediately pivoting to bashfulness. “Well, that was a gift, uh, from a coworker.”

“A coworker?” I asked.

“Ah, yeah. Friend of mine, I guess,” Juri said, and at this point she was fully turned away from me, twiddling my fingers. “Ugh, bet that family would _love_ you. You're so shiny.”

I tilted my hand. “Um, Juri-_san_... I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Yeah, 'cause I haven't explained it to you,” Juri said.

“Would you?” I asked.

Juri then halted, and turned around again, her eye twitching, slight jerking in her body. “What is _with_ this?” she asked, and pivoted again to posing dramatically on her bed, steadying one hand on it and one hand on a lamp by her nightstand, just past the window that had heralded her waking in the first place. “Aren't there more interesting people you cute, shiny protagonist girls could be asking about?”

I raised one eyebrow and frowned. “Did you let me in your room or didn't you, Sonohara-_san?_”

Pivoting once more out of her pose, her hair flipping wildly as she did, her eyes widening like dishpans, Juri squeaked, “So you're not trying to like, seduce me or anything, are you?”

“What.” My eyebrow fell.

“Hey, there was a bone spider a few hours ago, I think I'm allowed at least a few questions about how things that could never happen might be happening! Aren't you a celebrity or something? Celebrities don't come into the apartments of random otaku office ladies! And even if I did have someone famous barge into my room, it'd be a girl with a sillier, Tomino-y name.” Juri paused. “Or the mom from Build Fighters, that woman can _get it_, you know.”

I couldn't close off the baffled guffaw that left my lungs after that. “What on Earth are you even talking about?” I asked.

“I'm _socializing_!” Juri bellowed. “Yeah! Master, sir, did you just see my MAD SKILLZ!?”

“May I hear about your coworker now?” I asked.

“You know what?” Juri asked, before spinning around and falling onto her bed. “No. I wanna hear about _you_ first.”

I blinked. Once, twice, three-four-five times. “What?”

“I've already exposited about some of my backstory once, and you're all secretive. C'mon, Mai!” Juri pumped her arms toward the ceiling. “It's a game of give and take!”

“In what—” I sputtered, my mouth falling open. “Are you daft?”

“It's! A game! Of give~ and~ take!” I didn't recognize the tune Juri sang to. “C'moooon!”

“Sonohara-_san_, _are you quite alright_?” I asked, raising my voice more than I'd like to. Before I'd even finished my statement, though, Juri had plastered herself on one of the pillows on her bed and was patiently waiting for me to start talking. Sighing, I began combing through my own backstory to find something I'd be reasonably okay with talking about.

Thankfully, Juri had a question, now that the mad energy of having the upper hand in negotiations had left her. “So, I know you're, like, the Prime Minister's daughter, or something. So why _stage magic_?” Juri folded her hands into her lap as I sat down next to her. “It seems like kind of a weird choice.”

“Hm,” I mumbled. “That's something of a long story. Er, I suppose I should, uh, preface this—” I began gesturing in a surprisingly Juri-like manner. “I've been spending some time... out of the house. For some time now.”

“Oh, did they kick you out?” Juri asked. I expected that to be sardonic, and that I could get mad at her, but the question, and the tone she asked it with, were surprisingly soft and earnest.

“No, no...” I said, shaking my head as I lowered it away from her stare. “I... opted to leave for a while, and my mother didn't stop me.”

“What about your dad?” Juri asked.

“Well, I hadn't seen him in—” I stopped myself, and blinked. “Oh—oh right, Eikichi. I have no idea what he thought of the arrangement.”

Juri blinked. “Did you just call your dad 'Eikichi'?”

“Let me make one thing clear,” I said, furrowing my brow. “I get along with Prime Minister Miyake, and I believe he thinks of me as his daughter, and I don't mind that. However, my _father_ is Kenichiro Washizu, and that title belongs to him and him alone—not Eikichi Miyake, and not my biological father. Though I'm legally Eikichi's daughter, I have never called him Father, let alone 'Dad', and this is an agreement we've come to.”

“And he's okay with that?” Juri asked, and I nodded. She let out a low laugh, shaking her head. “I'd probably still call him Dad.”

“Different strokes,” I said, and Juri nodded back.

“You... really love that old guy, huh?” Juri said, and I completed a trifecta of nodding. “I hope he's happy about that. How'd you guys get separated in the first place?”

“Long story,” I said, and made a point to brush that subject off of my shoulder. “Anyhow, having taken my leave from the Miyake-Orihara household, I came to the realization that I had nowhere to go, and I didn't simply want to come crawling back begging for help so soon after I'd left. One could describe me as—”

“Wait, you were _homeless_?” Juri asked, her jaw agape.

“Well, in the sense of—”

“Holy shit, you ran away from home and you were homeless,” Juri spat, her eyes wide. “Are you okay?!”

“Really, it was my own pride that—”

“I can't believe she just let you leave like that!” Juri's brow furrowed, and her hands clenched. “That's really bad!”

“It _wasn't Mom's fault_, okay?!” I shouted, throwing my hands out. “Yeah, I was homeless, do you want to hear the rest of the story or not? I _don't want to talk about my MOM_!”

A bit of rawness in my throat alerted me moments after that I'd begun outright shrieking, my eyelids screwed shut, my arms shaking. I took a deep breath in and opened my eyes to see Juri stuck, frozen, looking as though she was barely even able to breathe.

“Sorry,” I said, looking down. “I'm... I'm sorry. I—I shouldn't have shouted, I really...”

“It's—it's fine, I know, um...” Juri trailed off. “That seems, uh... I'm—I'm sorry too. Yeah. I'm sorry—uh, I'm sorry. I'm sorry.”

Pause.

“Are you okay?” Juri said, leaning in. “Are—Are you okay? I'm sorry. Are you okay?”

“I'm—I'm fine,” I said. I could start to feel Juri's body heat when I said more. “It's a hard subject for me. Er, but... y-you were asking about the stage magic.”

“Yeah—” Juri nodded. “—yeah. Yeah, I was. You, um. You're still?”

“I don't mind talking about that,” I said, smiling with my eyes closed. I felt her back away again, and she was back in her original position. She looked away, and I could see her muscles repeatedly tensing up and down again. “Oh, Juri-_san_, it's alright, really. You didn't know. It's okay, I forgive you.”

“R-really?” Juri murmured, twiddling her fingers. “Well, uh, yeah, I...”

“So, when I started, I didn't know what to do. I kept taking brief jobs and hopping on buses to try and find anywhere I could manage. I wasn't certain how I was going to manage, until one night, I was working in a bar and I saw...” I could tell straight away that my voice had just grown a few tones softer. “An awfully strange man.”

“Uh...” Juri blinked. “What?”

“I could tell straight away he was certainly not Japanese. Even huddled to the bar in a coat, his brilliant eyes shone with a wide brightness that I didn't often see. I believe he was thirty-two at the time, so I suppose he was still a 'young man'... when he turned his head and saw me looking, he froze for a moment, and then gave me a gentle smile and said, 'Well, now, this don't seem much like a place for a young lady like yourself, does it?'” I said, with my own smile imitating his.

“Uhhh, wow that could've gone poorly for you,” Juri said, gritting her teeth. “Was he from Nevada, or?”

“I assure you I know how to differentiate between someone like _that_ and a genuinely kind person. It's in the body language. And yes, he was,” I said. “He was a tall, lanky man, with dusty blonde hair and those bright blue eyes of his, and a smile that, while slight from the time, radiated a sort of genuine kindness. He wore a heavy brown coat, but beneath that was a surprisingly fancy suit in a make I wasn't familiar with. He gestured to a seat next to him, as it was late at night and there were not too many people in the bar, and I opted to take it, as my shift was nearly over. He said, 'Now, if we were in America, young lady like yourself probably shouldn't be out this late. Nice how safe it is in Japan, ain't it? Real sweet.'”

“What, is the crime rate higher there?” Juri asked.

“Apparently,” I answered. “After he bought me a glass of milk, he introduced himself. 'Sorry 'bout the wait, darlin'. Howdy! My name's Ozymandias Crowley, call me Ozzie. It's a pleasure!' He introduces himself like that a lot, actually—”

“Oh!” Juri clapped. “Yeah! That guy's name was on the list at the library! You know him?”

“I most certainly do,” I said, and I imagine I was beaming. “After I introduced myself in kind, and looked at him curiously, he told me what he was doing there. He was a stage magician, actually, one who had moved to Japan a few years before, and he often came out here to unwind after a show, as it was near where a good friend of his lived and occasionally she would insist he stayed over. I hadn't been very familiar with the trade before, so I asked him what that was like, and he smiled and looked down at the counter.”

“Why?” Juri asked.

“I had held three ten-yen coins as a tip I'd just received, and placed them down on the counter to drink. When I looked down, one of them was missing. 'Ten yen's important as anything else,' Ozzie said, 'you think it's alright you lost that?' But, of course, I was terrified. I needed every yen I could manage, and for a moment I felt like my world was crashing down around me until he casually reached toward me, said, 'Hey, you got something in your ear,' and produced my coin from behind my ear!” I said, and found myself leaning in slightly.

“Hah! Yeah, that seems like a pretty standard one,” Juri said.

I leaned in further, and couldn't turn off my own intensity. “Nobody gets things like that past me. I was amazed! He had distracted me so effectively with his story that he was able to get his motions past me! _Nobody_ got things like that past me! I was so gobsmacked, unable to use my words, and he just laughed that happy little laugh. 'That's what magic's like, sweetheart,' he said, and smiled so brightly I felt myself begin to crack. I began to cry, and his smile fell upside down as he went to comfort me, and I began talking to him about myself and my situation.

“He had much a similar reaction to you, actually,” I continued, “just gobsmacked that a girl my age would be homeless and in such a destitute situation. Standing up, he paid the barkeep quick as a wink and said, 'Alright, now you follow me, darlin', I'm gettin' you some place to sleep.' I wasn't certain if he was entirely right in the head, considering he'd had at least one drink, but his driving ability was not impaired as he drove over to a house across from an apartment complex, and knocked on the door. An older woman, stocky and brunette, with her hair and body clearly already for sleep, opened the door, asking him what the fuss was this late, and then stopped when she saw me.”

I ran a hand through my hair. “This was his friend, a woman named Makiko Nishishita, and he called me over, hastily introduced me, and got on his knees begging her to give me a room!” I chuckled. “Makiko ran the apartments just across the way, you see, and she had a few vacancies. “'I reckon you're madder'n a wet hen at me, Maki, but she's worn slap out and I can't just leave a girl her age on the street when she looks so stunned when I give her that little trick, you know! C'mon, I'll clean your floors for a decade, I'm tellin' you!' And he keeps begging and begging, and Makiko and I are both stunned, staring at this man prostrating himself for the sake of a complete stranger.”

“You do _really_ vivid impressions,” Juri commented, blinking.

“It's a skill I've always had. Anyway, eventually he looks up at her with those doe eyes of his and Makiko sighs and asks me to come over, takes a look at me, and then goes, grabs a key to an apartment, and gives it to me. Ozzie looks so delighted, and he grabs my hands and starts jumping me around like he's a child. I'm stunned. I can hardly believe what just happened, that things might suddenly be alright. Makiko tells me I can have a few months on the house and she'll be gentle on the rent, and Ozzie leans over and whispers in my ear that she clearly likes me, and I'm looking around at them like—” I darted my head between Juri and one specific figurine of hers repeatedly. I don't know what it was.

“Uh,” Juri murmured, looking down and then back up at me. “Wow.”

“I agree!” I said, pumping my fists. “I didn't have all that much to my name, so I was able to get moved in very quickly, and—well, I won't bore you with those details, but suffice it to say that after that day, Ozzie was my _hero_. He didn't abandon me afterwards, either, and continued to visit and help me as much as he could. A fair amount of my current furniture was courtesy of him, actually. We became fast friends despite the gap in our ages, and I didn't say anything, but I began to watch recordings of his shows and I was stunned. He did so many more spectacular things than just that little trick with the coin, tricks I couldn't even begin to imagine how he'd done, and do you want to know the most amazing thing?”

Juri nodded, and I said, “Everyone was smiling. The people in his shows, every one of them always had such a bright smile on their faces. He delighted and amazed people, and he always said he loved to bring smiles to people's faces. He was so selfless, working for genuine love of his craft and to make people _happy_, how could I _not_ admire him? He—” I realized I was tearing up. “He was... _is_ my hero. I wanted to be just like him, to make people happy with my own sort of magic.”

“So you're like his protege,” Juri said.

“Ah, well... not quite,” I said, looking away and blushing. “The truth is, I was operating under a false name when I obtained the apartment, so my identity as the magician Mai Orihara is separate from my identity as his biggest fan, _and let nobody ever tell you I'm not for the record because I am_, and I haven't, er, actually confessed that I'm doing that... yet... to him. I'm not on his level yet. I really want to impress him, you know? A bar performer like myself isn't on his level. He has offered for me to become his assistant, though! He thinks I'd have a talent for it.”

I stopped when I realized Juri was laughing. “What? What's so funny?”

“You're pretty weird, Mai,” Juri said, still laughing. “First you're all harsh, and then the next you're ranting like a kid and lighting up so bright. You're a lot cuter than I expected you to be.”

“E-eh?” I blushed, looking away. “No, no, I'm nothing of the sort. Really!”

“I guess he really does sound like an incredible guy,” Juri said, giving a toothy smirk. She gave me a sly glance. “You into him?”

“No,” I said, my blush shifting within moments to a blank stare. “Frankly, I'm a little offended that you think I'm that basic.”

“I mean, some girls are into that, y'know,” Juri said. “Blonde pretty boy? If he was a bit ruder, my little sister'd be super into him.”

“Good for your little sister,” I said. “I've never in my life had a crush on a man and I'm not about to start now. Also, he's almost two decades my senior, and even in the event that he were a woman, he would not be my type.”

Juri stopped, paused, blinked, snapped her fingers, pointed her index finger at me and then said, “Wait, you're gay?”

“Yes,” I said. I saw Juri revving up. “No, that is not why I left home. Is that so unusual? I had been operating under the assumption that you were as well, considering how you look at Bella—”

A pillow was shoved in my face. “_Shut up your face mouth!!_” Juri said. “Just because you're correct doesn't mean you're right!”

* * *

His hands ran frantically through his hair as Minato tore at his scalp, attempting to use the stimulus to stop his own frantic breathing. It wasn't working.

“Okay no okay no let's see, we can figure this out,” Minato said, staring at himself in the mirror. “Hey, Minato! How's it going? You haven't had a panic attack in ten years! Yeah!” He gave himself a thumbs up. “That's groovy, ba—”

He stopped, and retched. “No, okay, no, not that. Not good! Actually! Haha! Wow! I feel like I'm dying!” Minato turned to himself and gripped his chin. “Yes, my boy, vocalize your thoughts so you can work through them.”

“Holy shit! What the fuck is going on! I feel like I'm literally losing my mind!” Minato said, throwing his arms wide.

“Hm, yes, that seems troublesome,” Minato said, pushing up a pair of imaginary glasses. “Why do you think that is?”

“I'm dealing with feelings I haven't dealt with in a decade, self!” Minato replied. “I thought they were gone! Wow! Also, suddenly I'm feeling a lot of pain and trauma from events I thought I'd put to bed!”

“You and I both know you mostly just ignored that,” Minato said, scribbling down on an imaginary notepad.

“Well I know that now, yeah, but it was easy to be tricked by my own incredibly beautiful wiles, you know?” Minato said, raising one of his hands and putting the other on his hip. “I mean, a pretty guy like me, I can be pretty convincing when I wa—”

Pause. Retch. Statement cut. Unpause. “Be that as it may, we're going to have to start confronting these things in a manner that isn't going to collapse our lungs harder than our binder when we were sixteen,” Minato said. “Let's see. What coping mechanisms do you have?”

“Haha! I don't have any!” Minato answered, beaming and pumping his fist around his body in a celebratory pose. “Maybe I could try drinking!”

“That seems like an awful idea,” Minato said. “Perhaps you're desperate for companionship?”

“Well, I!” Minato began.

Then, Minato fell to his knees, and began to cry, not managing to remain coherent enough to finish his statement. It had also been quite some time since he'd cried in such a manner, blubbering into his hands, still hyperventilating. He heaved and retched into his hands, but did not vomit, no matter how much it sometimes felt he would.

Minato stood, then, and began staggering toward the outside door. He figured a breath of fresh air would do him well—“Huh?”

His vision was quite solid, so Minato was able to pick out Kenichiro on the beach even in the darkness. He sat, quietly throwing his rod into the drink, and Minato slowly walked out to see about going and meeting him. His feet crushed the grass and the sand beneath him until he reached the fishing man and said, “Why are you still fishing? Aren't the fish just gonna be virtual?”

Kenichiro shrugged. “Got a bite yesterday.” His shoulders, no doubt, were slumping, and his posture sagging. “What?”

“Nothing,” Minato said, shaking his head.

There was a quiet moment between the two men before Kenichiro said, “Hey... kid. Weird question.” Minato tilted his head. “Have we met?”

“Me and you?” Minato asked, pointing at himself, and Kenichiro nodded. “Uh, not that I can think of... I don't remember meeting you, either.”

“Mm,” Kenichiro mumbled. “Right. Of course. Sorry.”

“You... alright, old dude?” Minato said, kneeling down by him.

“The fuck do you think?” Kenichiro snapped, and Minato recoiled a little, looking away. “You look like shit. Go to bed or something.” His voice was dry and croaky. “You young folk should take care of your bodies.”

“I guess sleep's not a bad idea...” Minato said. Then he tapped his chin, and made a quizzical noise. “Have I met you before? I'll think about that.”

“There's some sleeping pills in the infirmary if you need 'em,” Kenichiro said, and Minato thanked him for the information and inwardly decided he'd give being a human being another shot in the morning. At the very least, fresh air _did_ help.

True to her word, Juri had gone into much the same story she'd told Bella yesterday for my benefit. Frankly, her esteem for her little sister seemed much as endearingly enthusiastic as mine for Mr. Crowley, which I gave her no end of needling about.

With a loud yawn, Juri stretched her arms and said, “Okay, I think it's about time I need to start winding down.”

“It was lovely speaking with you overall,” I said, standing and putting my hands at my waist to bow. “Thank you for having me.”

“No problem, see you tomorrow or something,” Juri yawned again, and stood up and headed for her restroom. I began to see myself out, but my hyperconsciousness meant I paid a slight bit of attention to her as she went into her restroom, and I saw, out of the corner of my eye, tucked away in her restroom—

“Is that a keyboard?” I asked, and Juri _froze_. To be clear, not a computer keyboard, but a basic instrument. It was _old_, too; clearly having withstood the test of time in storage. “Do you play, Juri-_san_?”

“Uhhhh—” Juri paused, and her body hitched. “Um, well, I, uh... I used to... well, um, okay, so—” And there was another of her pivots. “Don't laugh, okay?” I nodded. “When I was a little kid, I, um, I actually wanted to be a pianist.”

“I don't think that's embarrassing,” I said.

“Well, it's just, uh, you know... my parents hated the noise, so I, uh, stopped? I—” Juri's eyes darted back and forth, grabbing at the sides of her glasses. “I just, y'know... they said it was stupid, so it, um. Ahaha.”

I smiled at her, and tilted my head to seem less threatening. “I don't think that's stupid, Juri-_san_. Is that the same keyboard?”

There was a pause as Juri looked over to her keyboard, and nodded. “Yeah.”

“I see,” I said, and smiled. Then, I realized something. “When I was about to come in—that was you playing.” Juri squeaked. “It sounded nice. You should play for Ryo some time; he might appreciate it a bit more than me.”

There were multiple moments where all I could hear were the sounds of the ocean just barely meeting us inside the mansion. We stood, silent, and I did not move. Then—

“Thanks,” Juri said. She stood in an awkward position, her arms hanging a bit too high to be called relaxed, but not high enough to be at attention. “Um... thanks.”

“You're welcome,” I said. “Goodnight, Juri-_san_.”

I closed the door behind me as I left, and just as I thought, I began to hear the basic sounds of an old computer keyboard ring out quizzically behind me as I left.

* * *

A knock on Zenji's door got me nothing, and I heard him snoring behind the door, almost seeming to become louder just to tell me to buzz off. As I headed to the Itagakis' wing, though, I passed through the central lobby again, and saw that I was not alone.

Blue eyes met mine. “Oh,” Bella said, sitting on the fountain. “Howdy.”

Moments later, I was seated on the fountain as well. “Are you alright?” I asked.

“Mm... I'm try'na stay positive, but sometimes I don't think it amounts to a hill of beans, sweetheart,” Bella said, hunching over and giving a loud sigh. “Reckon I'll be alright in the mornin', though. Thanks. You?”

“Awful,” I said, with a rueful shake of the head. “After I go to see Anzu, I'm going to sleep myself. I spent a few hours speaking with Juri. She's a charming one, isn't she?”

“Aw, no kiddin'.” Bella lit up. “You hear about that sister of hers?”

“Only every bit of the minutae of her daily routine,” I said. We both snorted.

“Why Anzu?” Bella asked. “Don't seem like she likes you all that much.”

I blinked, and digested that for a moment. “Well—”

“Does someone”—and Bella came in, her eyes sparkling, her hands up to her chin—“have a _cruuuush_?”

“No! What?” I sputtered. “No! What?! No! It just—I just thought it was a good idea! She seems like she could use some company!”

“_Suuuure_,” Bella said, giving me just the most unbelievably punchable grin. “Well, don't let me stop you, sweetheart. Have fuuuun~”

“Aaaargh, shut up!” I shouted, blushing up a storm, before running off at full speed to the Itagakis' wing.

Oddly, the racket that usually came from Anzu's room at times like this was completely absent. I didn't hear anything coming from her room, even though I was almost completely certain she was in there. Shrugging it off, I knocked on her door and hoped that she was in a personable mood.

Nothing. “Anzu? It's Orihara,” I said. No response. On a whim, I reached down to the doorknob.

It was unlocked.

Throwing open the door as a pang of fear gripped my chest in its claws, my mind began to race with images of what I might find. Then, when I opened the door and looked, I had a sequence of four reactions.

The first reaction was relief, seeing Anzu standing there with her headphones on, turned away from the door, but having heard me barging in and turning around to shout, “Christ, what?!”

The second reaction was surprise that she'd leave her door open, and then more surprise when I saw an intensely flustered Phanuel in the room, as well, jumping in shock at my arrival. “Y-Y-Mai?! Mai! Oh, thank goodness! You can talk some sense into her, right?!”

The third reaction was confusion, just a moment's worth of befuddlement as I looked around. Her room was as I've described before, but this was the first time I'd seen it, so it took me a moment to register the noose Anzu had hung on her ceiling fan as out of place.

Then—I gasped. “Oh my god, Anzu, what are you _doing_?!” I shouted.

Barging past me in a movement far faster than I could manage with my physique, Anzu launched and shut the door, then turned around and turned on a music player to create her signature racket. “What the fuck are you doing in here?” Anzu hissed, turning her head to glare at me. “Did the robot narc or something?”

“What? No, I—” I sputtered, throwing my arms out. “Is that a—Anzu, I—”

Anzu began scratching at her hair, spinning around in place. “Shit, I can't believe I forgot to lock the fucking door. What? What are you even doing here?”

“You've seemed like you're in a bad way! I thought maybe you could—” I put my own hands up to my temples. “Oh my god, oh my god...” I began hyperventilating.

“Fuck, shut up!” Anzu threw her hands out. “I wasn't even gonna do anything tonight, I was just hanging it for when I did!”

“Is that supposed to make me feel _better_?! Wait—” She'd just admitted it. My glasses started falling off of my face. “Y-you really were planning to—”

“Yeah, no shit, idiot,” Anzu snorted. Why on Earth, I wondered, was she so relatively casual? “Look, what is so surprising about this?”

“What's _surprising_?!” I yelled.

“Why do you even care?” Anzu threw her hands up and shrugged. “We met two days ago, you fake bitch. Nobody cares that much after two—”

Every single word from her mouth was like a dagger into my heart, so I went from hyperventilating to sobbing in record time. “No, no, no!” I sprang forward and grabbed her shoulders, shaking her unconsciously. “No, god, please, no, don't do that, oh my god, please, no, no!”

“Why not?!” Anzu yelled at me, and that hurt even more. “What if tomorrow she starts unveiling _me_, huh?”

“Please, no, please, I can't lose anyone else...” I slumped to my knees, then, losing muscle tone. “Please, please, no, no more, no more, please, Anzu...”

I heard a sharp intake of breath, and then Anzu spat an “Ugh, _fine_,” and wrenching off my arms, she went to go take down the noose. “If you're gonna be such a fucking buzzkill. What—”

When she looked back at me, I was sobbing on the floor, my glasses completely having fallen off of my face. I almost felt like curling up into a ball, and gave spite again to how much my hair fell into my face when something like this happened. “Please... please, please...”

“Wha...” Anzu said, and it was more of a whisper, so I could hardly hear her over the sound of her music. “What the...?”

“I don't want to lose anyone... I don't want to be alone again.” I wept. “Don't leave, please. Please live. Please.”

Even without my glasses, I could tell she was taking a few unsteady steps closer, and all of a sudden I found myself catching my breath and managing to stop crying for the moment. I started standing up, supporting myself on the foot of her bed.

“...What's _with_ you?” Anzu said, looking away.

“Please don't kill yourself,” I asked.

“Fine, god.” Anzu handed the noose to Phanuel, who remembered they were there and took it. “You really care that much?”

“Mmhm,” I said, my gaze still wet. “I really don't think suicide is the answer to any of your problems.”

“Says you,” Anzu snorted.

“Says me,” I nodded. “I... I'm not lying, Anzu. Do you think I'm lying? I really... I really do want to get to know you better. Can I prove it somehow? I don't want you to go. I know we just met, but I... I want to be your friend, I really do. I'm not faking it. You... I...”

After a heaving sigh, I finished. “You seem really cool,” I said. “I want to be your friend. Can we please be friends? And... and please don't—”

“I'm not _gonna_,” Anzu said, looking away. “Fuck. Here, okay. Hey, Phanuel. You let her know if I ever do anything like that again, okay?”

“Oh!” Phanuel remembered they existed again. “Yeah, okay, I can do that! I'll go burn this, bye!” Poof.

“Okay,” I said, my posture getting smaller by the moment. “Okay. You promise?”

Rolling her eyes, Anzu said, “I _promise_.” Pause. “Hey. Let me lay out some ground rules here.”

“Huh?” I blinked away a few more tears.

“Listen.” There was a sharp, shrewd glint in her eyes as Anzu continued. “I'll cooperate with you as long as you don't say a word about this to anyone else. This stays in here, got it? And I'm not giving you some sob story to explain this, even if you want it.”

“Uh-huh.” I nodded.

“And you don't get to say you regret that later,” Anzu said, her nose curling up a bit.

“I don't think I will. I think you seem like a good person, Anzu,” I said, a little smile coming to my face. “Thank you...” I reached over and grabbed her tightly into a hug. “Thank you, thank you!”

“Say it, don't spray it,” Anzu scoffed. “I'm not even doing anything for you. Now get out,” she said, shoving me off. “We've probably got work to do tomorrow, right? Let me sleep.”

“Right, okay!” I chirped. “Thank you!” My eyes unconsciously closed, and I ran my hands through my hair to get myself back in a good enough position to make the short walk to my room. “I'll see you tomorrow, Anzu!”

“Yeah, sure,” Anzu said, going over and flopping on her bed. “God, you're weird.”

* * *

_You got off lucky there._

Once I'd left the room—

_Are you proud of yourself? Now you've got a contingency._

“Shut up,” Anzu said, clutching her head. “Stop it.” There wasn't a bit of energy in her voice. Croak, croak. “Go away.”

_You almost actually did it. Shame she had to interrupt._

“Stop it,” Anzu said, and even though she croaked like an ugly frog, it was still a plea. “Please leave me alone.”

_But it's okay. You'll get to a point where she can't save you. I know you will. You'll get what you deserve._

“I don't wanna die,” Anzu muttered into her sheets.

_Yes, you do. If you don't, then why didn't you tell her?_

“I don't know,” Anzu said. “I don't know anything. I'm stupid.”

Y_ou're a traitor. And traitors get what they deserve._

“Stop it!” Anzu said, tears beginning to come to her eyes and bleed through the sheets. “Stop it, stop it... stop it. Let me sleep.”

_They're all going to know what you deserve._

_ **There's only one way out of that, Anzu.** _

She felt it.

She felt the noose.

She felt it around her throat.

Did you know? Sometimes, executions by hanging _fail_.

They're meant to break the neck for an instant death

but sometimes, such suicides can fail to do so

and that's why Anzu felt the noose around her throat _tighten_

crushing her airway and leaving her gasping for air that would not come

as her eyes filled with tears and she pleaded for someone, anyone, to help her

but no noise would come out and no one was going to come to help her

even if she scratched at the rope, trying to get off of it and scratching at her own throat

as her consciousness bled out of her in an excruciating death by suffocation

at her own hands, coming to realize just how much she regretted it and wanted to be alive

and then she was gasping, gasping for air, clutching at her throat, the pain fading from her mind, that thing that had not happened properly not happening even no matter how much it hurt her and—

_You're a glutton, huh? Sick freak. You like punishment. You'll always come back for more._

“Aa...aaaahhh...”

_And I'll give it to you._

So all that awaited Anzu Itagaki tonight, even still

was another sleepless night.


	18. Nameless Samurai, 3 ~ Yamada

“What will you tell people?”

I froze in place. The question had come from Mai, who was hovering behind me, standing with a certain boneless quality to her body that I hadn't understood. “In what sense?” I asked.

“About you... us,” Mai answered, and as I turned my head over my shoulder, I saw those ruby eyes of hers vanish behind her hair as she looked away. “What we are isn't normal, Yamada-_san_.”

“In what sense?” I asked again.

“...Was that supposed to be a joke?” Mai sat down on the sofa and said, and I immediately swiveled when I heard that air of bitterness to her voice. “What part of this _is_ normal? What are you going to tell people if they ask? If they find out I'm not you?”

“Mai, are you alright?” I asked, hurrying over to the sofa and sitting next to her. “You seem agitated.”

“Take the question seriously, Yuki,” Mai said, leaning over to the armrest and resting her cheek on her clenched fist. “We're still young, and who knows how much longer we have to live. Eventually, you're going to have to explain _us_ to someone in some way—the fact that Yuki Yamada is not Mai Orihara.”

Placing my sword on a small table near our sofa, I took a deep breath in before continuing. “Okay, you're right. Do you have any thoughts?”

“We can't tell anyone the whole truth, obviously,” Mai said, “but there's nothing stopping you from telling people partial truths and satisfying them that way.”

“That seems kind of rude,” I said. “Isn't there anything else I can do?”

Mai sighed and rolled her eyes. “Come now, Yuki. It's just how people work. Just because I was the only one listening to anything Mother told us doesn't mean that it's not important. Would you rather lie completely?”

I froze. “N-no,” I said, shaking my head.

“Because lies can be found out easily,” Mai said, “but partial truths are much harder to break.” She picked up a coin off of the other side table, and began idly flipping it. “It's a harsh lesson, but an important one. Mother would be furious at you if you didn't learn it, I'm sure—”

Mai looked up from flipping her coin to stare lazily down the end of my sword. “This again?”

“You,” I said, my entire body shaking, gripping the hilt of my sword in both hands. “You, you're not Mai. You're not Mai, you're that thing that _isn't_ Mai.”

'That thing that wasn't Mai' righted her posture, and put her index finger on my sword, pushing it down with little resistance. She sighed, closing her eyes and shaking her head a little. “Am I not allowed to even say my piece without you denying me the name my mother gave me?”

“You're not Mai,” I repeated, my entire body shaking, sweat covering my forehead and making it feel unpleasantly sticky. “You're not Mai. Go away.”

“Yuki,” 'that thing that wasn't Mai' said. “Why?”

“Why _what_?” I asked, raising my sword back up, yelling a bit louder than I probably should've.

'That thing' shook her head. “Never mind. Without me, you really are hopeless. Content to live in your own world, without any thought for the future. ...What a pathetic child this Yuki Yamada is. What will you ever do if you lose that sword of yours?”

My hands gripped the hilt tighter. “Shut up,” I said. “Shut—shut up. Just shut up.”

“When you face Mother again, what will you have to show for yourself?” 'that thing' said. She turned her head. “'_As one who has been denied the birthright of a 'normal' woman_—'”

My breath hitched, and I began frantically shaking my head. “No! No, no, no, no, no, no, I can't, I can't! Let me go!” My sword dropped to the ground, and I felt something on my body that I needed very badly to brush off.

As I writhed, attempting to wrench the hands of the outside world off of my body, prying and touching and just getting too, too close, 'she' stopped herself, and then 'that thing' said what she always said.

“Justice isn't the only 'right' in this world,” she said, looking away with a dispassionate gaze toward the closed window. “One day, you'll have to understand that, Yuki.”

And just like that—

Mai wilted for a moment, stumbling, and I hurried to grab her. “Mai!” I called, shaking her, her pale, wispy body always seeming to nearly vanish in the light.

She groaned, letting out a little “Yamada-_san_” as she did, before reopening her eyes. “I'm... I'm sorry...”

“It's not your fault, that thing isn't you,” I said, sitting us both down again. “Mai, it's alright. It's really alright.”

“I really am an awful person,” Mai said, tears coming to her eyes, a little sniffle in her nose. “Why? Why am I like this?”

“Mai, that thing is not you. I... I don't know... Mai, you're a good girl!” I cried, leaning in closer and hugging her. “You're a good girl, Mai. You're a...”

I grabbed my sword.

“You're a good girl, Mai,” I repeated. “There's no doubt about that. I wouldn't have pledged myself to you if you weren't. You trust me, don't you?” She nodded. “Good. I will fight to show you that that is the truth.”

“Yamada-_san_...” Mai said, and there was something else in her voice, then, that I couldn't quite place, but that nevertheless made me start sweating again, just a touch.

“Er, yes?” I asked, blinking.

Then she looked down, a luminescent blush on her face, as she began fiddling with the buttons on the blouse she was wearing. I tilted my head. “Well, that is... um...” Mai trailed off. “Right now, I... don't want you to go...” One button came unbuttoned.

“I'm not going anywh—” I stopped myself, as common sense finally informed me of what was actually happening here. I started blushing, too. “M-Mai.”

“P-please, come closer...” Mai whimpered. “I... I don't want to be alone... I'm scared. Hold me. Please. I love you, Yamada-_san_.”

More than anything, I knew I could never refuse a heartfelt request from this girl. She was my everything, the reason I existed. And—

—that was when I woke up in my bed in Zephyr-Lily, launching out of bed like someone possessed. I ambled out of bed, running my fingers through my hair, and staring into my cracked bedside mirror.

A question came to my mouth unbidden.

“Who... is Yuki?” I asked.

Then I paused, shook my head, and said, “I don't have time to wax philosophical,” as much to convince myself as anything else.

* * *

One.

On the morning of the fourth day, at 8:00 A.M. sharp, the morning routine of Zephyr-Lily had an interruption. A bell's great chime began to ring out from across the waves, audible despite an obvious distance.

Two.

The sun, high above, cast a shadow down from its massive hands. That shadow reached a fair distance into the new landmass this clock tower sat upon; a new branch had formed on the initial island, a metal bridge which led to a second, much larger island.

Three.

Where the first island had been largely what one would expect from an uninhabited island, this second looked much more the part of a recently abandoned city—the bridge led right onto a street, and that street then carried its riders on through a great line of suburban homes, branching off into a larger network of homes of different makes and ages.

Four.

Then, through the lines of the suburb that did not end in dead ends or cul-de-sacs, the suburb rode into an economic center, a cramped area of wall-to-wall streets all surrounding the great clock tower—a clock which sat atop a twenty-floor skyscraper with glass windows, proclaiming the beginning of the day. Though there were no people here, the buzzing sound of society, of people, of the rush of city living and innovation, could still be heard—and even felt, if one got wrapped up in it.

Five.

And, behind that city, even taller than the clock tower—

—a truly massive tree, in full bloom, with green leaves running all around it, adorned this second island's far reaches, seeming to have an ethereal aura around it that left the viewer to question whether this sight could truly exist in a realm so close to the harsh reality of city life.

Six.

Here, all that existed did so beneath the shadow of the great tree, sitting atop its green, grassy hill. And so, too, did the heart of the one whose soul had created this land.

Seven.

And in this place where the world obeyed the rules of the heart, and not its own— the sun over the second island halted in its position, hanging high above the world.

Eight. Eight rings. It was 8:00.

With its duty finished, the clock tower went silent, and the day began.

**“Welcome to Cinnamon Boulevard ∀ !”**

* * *

“...Cinnamon _huh_?” Minato asked, jogging up just as Nagisa finished presenting the aerial overview of the next stage. Reading the title off of the screen didn't tell him much more. “Wha?”

“Turn-A, or the 'universal qualifier',” Juri said, rolling her eyes and biting her bottom lip in that oh, boys, way she did. “A mathematical symbol meant to represent a set that contains everything. It's like—”

“Ah,” Tsukihi said, nodding and crossing her arms, “so rather than the boulevard having a single direction, it encompasses all directions.”

—With these two, the group numbered eight. This presentation was supposedly being shown to everyone who was still in their rooms, as not everyone yet felt like leaving their rooms... or was recovering from a near-death experience, in Wataru's case.

I was there, obviously, just in front of the TV, tapping the point on my hip where my sword, by all rights, should have gone. Ryo stood next to me, clutching tight to my waist. I'd successfully convinced Juri and Anzu to come this morning, so the two of them were also present— Juri toward the left of the group, rolling her eyes at people's lack of knowledge regarding obscure mathematical symbols, and Anzu behind me a ways, turned away from the TV and looking at the giant tree in question.

Tsukihi was closest to the TV besides me, and Minato had just jogged up from his room. Saori was sitting on the ground to my right, and Park was next to her, attempting to ensure she did not fall asleep midway through Nagisa's presentation. Wataru had been ordered to take it easy today, and Kenichiro, Zenji, Bella, and Zoe had yet to show, if they were planning on it at all.

“At least she's warning us this time,” I said, shrugging and shaking my head. “That doesn't look much like anywhere I've ever seen before, though.”

“You're inside of a collective dream,” Nagisa's voice said, coming on the screen below the display, taking the center of the newsroom now that Phanuel had no need for the left. “I shouldn't think this would come as a surprise.”

“Assume it does, pretty please?” Juri asked.

Sighing and rolling her eye, Nagisa said, “Certainly. Your second Sinner's sin was not such a vivid single event as Wataru's, but took place over a longer period. Their mind has brought forth a world which might give you the story in brief.” She paused, and then said, “Don't worry, though. I have no doubt that they'll still figure it out before long.”

“So it's a lifestyle thing?” Minato asked.

“It is not unlike a lifestyle thing,” Nagisa responded. “Surely, Minato, you remember the—”

Loudly breathing in through his nose, Minato's smile grew very strained as he waved towards his face, seeming to fan himself. “Okay! Hey! I read your blog.” He then slumped over, making a noise rather like a balloon that had sprung a leak. “Can you pretty please stop giving me the third degree? I'm going through a lot right now, you know. Lotta ins, lotta outs, lotta what have yous, it's tough, I'm a complicated young man and you're super not helping.”

There was a pause that felt like it had no right being as long as it actually was.

“I _suppose_,” Nagisa said, rolling her eye again. “Phanuel is off _trying on new outfits_, so I'll have to be the bearer of bad news by myself this time.”

“Well, I'm very proud of, um, them, but frankly, Dr. Ayana, I feel as though you have only brought an incredible amount of bad news to my life since we've met and so this doesn't really come as a surprise to me,” Park said, his eyes darting back and forth, “so would it be alright if you stopped waiting?”

Another box erupted from below us. “As you wish,” Nagisa said.

There were a few moments' pause, an awkward silence coming over us, before Anzu audibly scoffed, turned around, and walked past the rest of us to grab the fragment of paper. “It's one out of twelve odds, you guys,” Anzu said, scoffing. When she turned around, she saw that I and her mother had been the ones closest to following, and stared off in a random direction, flicking her finger and making a snarling expression for some reason. “Lucky you have this screen or I'd beat the shit out of you, bitch,” she said, her head angling slightly back to ensure Nagisa knew that was directed at her.

“Frankly,” Nagisa said, “I don't have a doubt in my mind that you could.”

Anzu spun and leaned back on Nagisa's screen, causing a grunt to emanate from the screen, before she lifted the paper up to her face and read. “'Movement 2, the Lonesome... Affliction', what. 'Once, there was a puny little _microorganism_', okay you're really reaching for these metaphors. Dot dot dot, few empty lines. 'But then, “I wanted you to guide me because we sensed our feelings toward each other”', and the Affliction knew the name of the Angel of Judgment.”

There was another pause. “I don't get it,” Saori said.

“Same,” Juri nodded.

“I imagine it will make more sense once we've found the full story,” Tsukihi observed, having put her hand up to her chin. “Wataru's tale wasn't a very subtle metaphor, all told.”

“Few metaphors are truly _subtle_,” Park said. He smiled, just a touch. “Not once you know what they're a metaphor for. I—”

“Hey, Girl Genius, who did it?” Anzu asked, and it took me a few moments, despite the fact that she was looking directly at me, to realize that she was referring to me.

“I, er,” I stammered out. My lips puckered. “Well... I don't know. I don't even know what was done.”

“Nobody flinch funny, or something?” Anzu asked, raising her eyebrow, and I wasn't sure how exactly to take that face she was making.

I frowned loudly, holding my hands up and beginning to push away this responsibility. “I feel as though you're overestimating my deductive capabilities, here,” I said, with a nervous chuckle. “After all, detectives who solve the story as soon as they hear about it are some of the most two-bit detectives in some of the most third-rate mystery stories out there, right? Knox's Commandments aren't hard and fast rules, but they were written for a reason, each and every one, you know.”

Anzu was staring at me. “Huh?”

“You know... um, never mind,” and I'm sure I was blushing very hard at that moment. “I'll just—Nagisa, do you have anything else to say? We're burning daylight.”

“One other thing, yes,” Nagisa said. “I understand that you'd all like to discuss Yuki.”

I froze in my tracks, every muscle in my body going completely rigid, as Tsukihi perked up and asked, “Yes?”

“I should inform you that there's something relevant to that discussion close to the stage's entrance,” Nagisa said. “It would likely be easier if you obtained it first.”

“What is—” Tsukihi began.

Every nerve ending in my body had immediately pounced on this possibility. “What is it?” I asked, hurrying up to the monitor and grabbing it by its sides. “Is it—”

“_Please_ stop shaking my monitor,” Nagisa said, her dryness belying the fervor with which I shook her transmission. “It is a piece of _your_ property, yes. My apologies that I wasn't able to bring it in _immediately_, but—”

“But what? But what?!” I shouted.

Nagisa sighed a heavy, heavy sigh. “I had to study it to ensure Phanuel could model it properly. You're very meticulous about these things, so I couldn't leave it to your own mental faculties to be able to put forth a proper fascimile.”

“So you stole it!” Minato chirped.

“I have stolen _nothing_,” Nagisa hissed. “Said object is right alongside its owner and I have never had any intention of separating the two. Frankly, leaving it at their apartment would be more akin to stealing it in this case. Am I wrong?”

It took me roughly five seconds to realize that I was being addressed. “Um. No?”

These five seconds got me to stop shaking Nagisa, who immediately muttered out a, “That's right, anyway have a nice time,” and sank beneath the ground again, leaving me stuck in an odd position that, in most people, would likely have caused them to fall over.

I swiveled my head around and took inventory again. Me. Tsukihi. Anzu. Minato. Juri. Ryo. Saori. Park. “Who's staying here and who's going, I'm going,” I said.

“Wha—take a breath,” Anzu said, and I realized I had no idea when she'd gotten so close to me. “Calm down.”

In response, I properly turned around to face her, placed my hands on her shoulders, and said, “Anzu, please understand that I am being _utterly genuine_ when I say that I have been without a centrally important item for my own mental health for three days now and that the thought of having it back is the most relieving thing in the world short of actually having it back. If I am moving too quickly, I am sorry, but _I would like to go quickly_.”

“What, so it's like a security blanket?” Anzu asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes!” I clapped. “Yes. It's a lot like a security blanket.” I leaned in, holding my hands out in an emphatic gesture. “It's a great deal like—okay,” I said, turning around and beginning to pace with my chin on my hand, “I recognize that there are four people left in this building but I don't want to take any chances on Wataru's health, Saori, could you stay here.”

Saori turned, slowly looked at Tsukihi, waited for Tsukihi to nod (which she did), and then turned her head back. “Okay.” She handed me the notepad and pen, then said, “Please take care of the map. It's fragile.” I nodded.

“Mrs. Itagaki,” I asked, “how many do you think we should bring?”

A moment's pause, and then Tsukihi answered. “Five. It's been our staple number so far for smaller expeditions, and I would rather not risk splintering with a larger group in uncharted territory.”

“It is kind of a nice, even number, huh?” Juri muttered. “Well, it's an odd number, but.”

“So then, two people should also remain behind to inform the others of where we've gone if they come out,” I said, “and perhaps do some inventory at the supermarket.” My gaze fell on Ryo first. “Ryo, would you mind helping with that?”

Ryo nodded his head, then started and shook his head, then said, “Um, I will.”

“Ah, I could—“ Park started, raising his hand. “Er, well... I suppose I don't have to—”

“Please do your best to avoid being too drunk by the time we return,” Tsukihi said, and Park nodded and saluted, his posture going rigid.

“Yes, ma'am. Understood, ma'am. Please, everyone, do your best not to come to any harm. I will commence _menial household chores_!” Park's posture went very rigid. “The two of you are free to assist me!” Then, he spun on his feet and walked back into the manor.

“Yaaaaay,” Saori said, and she knelt down to stare at Ryo. They gave each other mutual thumbs up, before puttering off back inside the manor behind Park. Ryo waved goodbye to me, and I waved back.

“I'll see you when we come home!” I called, but by the time I finished, he was already back inside.

“Alright, ladies,” Minato said, pumping his fist and doing some sort of odd pose, “allow yours truly to go fetch the jeep.” He grinned, showing his pearly whites.

As he did, Juri sighed and said, “So I'm noticing I didn't really have a choice in this.”

“You had the choice to not leave your room,” Tsukihi responded, to which Juri squeaked. “What?”

Juri had gone utterly silent and pale, leaving it to Anzu to roll her eyes and say, “She's afraid you're going to get her fired.”

This gave Tsukihi a moment's pause as she looked slightly down, then back up again, tilting her head just a little. “Why on earth would I want to get you _fired_, Sonohara?”

“I don't know!” The dam had burst. “I mean if I stand here giving a bad impression of our company, then you might use your incredible capitalism powers to destroy me and my company and I'd go down as some kind of unhireable pariah even among base-level OLs!” I doubt by now that I need to explain what sort of motions Juri was making here.

Tsukihi's stare was blank and confused. Her lips puckered. “We've been _kidnapped_. I'm not at work. You have no reason to—” She cut herself off and sighed. “_Please_ put yourself at ease, Sonohara. Those whose careers I destroy, I do in my capacity as Tsukihi Itagaki, businesswoman.”

“So you admit you do it!” Juri pointed.

After another few moments' pause, Tsukihi slumped over, and I noticed her shoulders relax, though not without some inborne resistance. “You like mecha anime, right, Sonohara?” she asked. “I don't suppose you necessarily know, but which iteration of Megatron is your fa—”

“Beast Wars.” Juri's response was automatic, and she threw her hands up to her mouth once she realized she'd said it, but then lowered it. “What?”

“Thank you,” Tsukihi answered, nodding. “This is important information. I don't suppose you have an opinion on du—”

“Subs every day for Western media because I hate how they change the characters,” Juri responded again, this time not covering her mouth.

“Had you answered wrong _there_, I definitely would've fired you,” Tsukihi said, looking upward with a completely straight face. “But you haven't, so your position is secure. Congratulations, Sonohara.”

Anzu's head was on my upper back, and I could feel her mumble a pained “oh my fucking god” under her breath into a particularly sensitive spot on my spine that _almost_ made me jump. “Now? Really?”

“Common ground is important for cooperation,” Tsukihi answered. “What?”

“If it's not the cold and impassive shit it's you being a hipster,” Anzu said, rolling her eyes and throwing up her hands. Her teeth were gritted. “You're an embarrassment.”

Juri's head darted between the two Itagakis. “Wait, are you two talking now?”

“It does come as a surprise,” Tsukihi said, nodding, “but not an unpleasant one.”

“Thank her,” Anzu said, jabbing her thumb in my direction as she turned away again to look at our destination. “She convinced me to play nice.” I decided not to mention that nothing in my requests to her specifically involved talking to her mother, as that was a conclusion for my own ears and would perhaps cause her undue embarrassment.

“You were busy last night,” Tsukihi observed. I nodded. “No rest for—”

The conversation was cut off by the arrival of Minato in the jeep. “Ladies!” He winked. “Shall we be off? I believe we've got work to do.” In that instant, in the split second of looking at Anzu considering whether to ride shotgun with Minato or run the risk of sitting next to her mother in the backseat, I saw the face of true agony.

* * *

Minato was more a classic rock sort of man than Wataru. Tsukihi had decided to take shotgun, and Anzu was visibly relieved that she got both a window seat and the privilege of sitting next to me, who she no doubt considered relatively sane.

“_I'm a fool to do your dirty work, oh yeahhhh!_” Minato crooned. To call his singing good would be charitable, but as far as car karaoke, he was better than some I'd ridden with. “_I don't wanna do your dirty work, no mooooore!_”

Having heard Tsukihi sing previously, on the other hand, I knew her singing voice was actually quite pleasant. Unfortunately, she was also not the type to sing in the car. Thus, Juri, Anzu, and I were left to digest the tones of Minato's taste in music with only his... _decent_ accompaniment. (Please understand that this is not an indictment. I have loved many people with poor singing voices. For instance, here is a fun fact about Shizuku Orihara—the sound of her singing is like someone at a desk near you repeatedly tapping their finger on their desk in an irregular rhythm that creates some sort of sound that you can't entirely tune out, but also can't predict based on their psychology, while you're attempting to concentrate on something, like, say, an important test that will affect the rest of your life.)

The ride to the bridge was shorter than I'd expected, but the bridge itself was fairly long. I wasn't sure what exact distance scale Nagisa was using for the sake of creating this virtual environment, but it certainly felt like we actually were crossing some part of ocean.

As I thought, Juri spoke up. “Uh, hey, okay, so it's... it's 9:03 now. I've got a watch.”

“Huh?” Minato asked, being interrupted from rapping his knuckles on the window along with the music.

Juri pointed out the window. “The—the sun. The sun just sorta...”

It took a moment, but true enough, the shadows in our jeep shifted themselves in a fluid motion to compensate. The sun had just shifted one hour backward in its rotation, by my estimate, leaving us much earlier in the morning on this island than we actually were. Juri's watch, however, had not changed.

“The clock tower's at eight,” Anzu pointed out, staring out into the distance at the island's clock tower. “Think it's stuck there?”

“Like, the sun's stuck at eight like the clock tower?” Minato asked. “Huh. Neat.”

“We wouldn't have a visible indicator of time, then,” Tsukihi observed. “Keep an eye on your watch in case that's so, Sonohara.” Juri nodded.

Just as we had crossed the bridge, we were stymied by a bright red STOP sign and a loud whistle. “Alright, everyone out of the vehicle!” Seeing nobody around the car to be holding the sign (and, well, recognizing the voice), I nudged Juri with my arm to get her to start the parade of exiting the jeep.

Phanuel had, true to their word, tried something new this time. The angelic robes and straight hair were replaced by a sort of wavy, neck-length, more professional-looking cut. The grey suit and pants gave off something of a military vibe, but not any that I could recognize. Sounding their whistle once more, Phanuel then took down their sign, removed their whistle, and said, “Thank you for your cooperation. Petty Officer Phanuel Ayana, reporting to guide you!” With a V-sign in front of their eyes, Phanuel let loose a little sparkle.

Minato and I both had the same idea, and began politely clapping. “Thank you, thank you, you're too kind,” Phanuel said, blushing and rubbing the back of their head. “Welcome properly to Cinnamon Boulevard! Your friendly neighborhood Angel of Judgment is here to explain a few things.”

As Anzu and Tsukihi worked on ensuring our supplies were in order one last time (in the spirit of the good doctor), I asked, “What things would those be?”

The bridge gave way to a paved entryway of sorts, with the area's name engraved to one side of a brick gateway as though we were entering an area of a theme park. To the side of its gates, though, to our left, was something Phanuel produced a flag to gesture to.

“Here's an object you'll find in the entryway of most locations you'll find here,” Phanuel said, then skipping over to demonstrate. To the side was a clearing, right as the pavement fell again to sand on the beach, where an indentation sat in the ground. Thirteen black boxes sat in a row behind it, two of which were open—first and third from the left—with invitingly shiny red buttons atop them. The other eleven were closed. “Do you recognize it? There's one in—”

“—in the manor, yeah,” Minato said, nodding. “It's just across from the other thing I couldn't figure out.” His lips puckered. Now that he mentioned it, I recognized it as well, having briefly seen it in my own exploration. The indentation in the ground, too, was coffin-shaped. Just before Phanuel was able to speak again, though, Minato's eyes lit up, and he exclaimed, “Oh! I get it!”

“Y-you do?” Phanuel blinked.

“You do?” I asked, raising my eyebrow.

“Of course you do,” Juri scoffed, rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, if we're not necessarily operating on regular physical laws, then my best guess would be that this indentation here—” Minato darted over to it, kneeling down to gesture. “—is the access point for a network of instantaneous transmission terminals for our avatars.”

“Ohhhh,” I said, nodding. Juri nodded, too, putting her hands on her hips, and coming over from the jeep, Tsukihi also looked to be with it. Anzu, meanwhile, looked a little put off.

“Can you say that in words I can understand?” Anzu said.

“You—” Phanuel started.

“Well, basically, these boxes each correspond to another terminal like this one somewhere on the island,” Minato said, “and using these, we can, like, lay down in these spaces and warp back to the manor or anywhere else. This is a sort of shared dream we're having, so the bodies we're operating aren't entirely physical, they're cognitive data that represents our bodies, do you play video games? It's like a video game, except it's like all the fake VR games you see in anime and movies where”—and at this point Minato hunched over and started throwing his hands out and doing a mock threatening voice—“everything's real here, dude.” Back to normal. “Our brains can't actually noticeably differentiate between the avatars it's piloting and our actual bodies, so our wiring interprets all this as real even if we know it's not—”

“So we can teleport back to the manor by lying in the coffin,” Anzu said, her lips flat. I could see a hint of gritted teeth.

“Yeah, basically here and anywhere else we find one of these, we can warp to it. The shared dream Phanuel's simulation puts forth has some noticeable segmenting, so the bridge is probably like a transitional phase where the altered rules from one person's brain to another can take a moment to assert themselves—”

“Oh my _godddd_!” Phanuel yelled, before leaping onto Minato's head with surprising accuracy and using their nubby hands to cover his mouth. Minato began struggling, but the incredible arms of the Angel of Judgment would not let go. “You can't just go blabbing all my technical details! It's like you're—you're posting nudes of me online, or something!”

The muffled noise Minato made was presumably something along the lines of “But you're a technical marvel!” He would not win this argument, though. He had no hope against a computer scorned.

“It's understandable that you guys haven't found the one in Kansai Super yet,” Phanuel said, once they were done giving Minato what for for his flagrant violations of their privacy, “since you were in a bit of a hurry, but there's one in there, too. Plus there's a little...” Phanuel's tiny fingers snapped, and a clear tube into the ground appeared by the indentation. “Poof! If you need to move any objects.”

“That's _astonishingly_ convenient,” Tsukihi observed, her hand on her chin, once we were all geared out properly. “I'm surprised.”

“Well, we're working on a time limit, so Nagisa thought it would be a lot more convenient if you could come home without too long of a trip. We want you to be able to work with this, after all!” Phanuel saluted again. From somewhere, a jaunty drum and flute beat came up as Phanuel walked in a manner befitting their new rank (and I had mentally congratulated them on their promotion already, please don't worry about that), in front of the gateway. Minato, Juri, and I all stood in front, mimicking its posture.

“Your mission,” Phanuel said, their childlike voice going down a touch to play at gruffness, “if you choose to accept it, is to reach the Legendary Tree at the far end of this dungeon. There and only there will the Lonesome Affliction's true sin be revealed. This is gonna be a lot tougher than that wimpy little supermarket, so you'd better grit your teeth and drop into those trenches!”

“_Sir, yes, sir!_” Minato, Juri, and I all chimed in at once.

“With that said, my advice for you maggots' personal health is that this dungeon happens to contain two good checkpoints that you'll darn sure know when you see 'em, so it might behoove you to take advantage of those natural points to take a siesta, _unless you wanna drop and give me twenty right now_!” Phanuel bellowed. I raised my hand. “Orihara!”

“I can't do twenty pushups, Officer! I would much rather take your advice!” I said.

Phanuel huffed. “_Now that's what I like to hear! **Get out there and show me what our tax dollars pay for, privates! Mooooooove OUT!**_”

As soon as Phanuel disappeared, Minato turned to me and said, “Wait, you can't?”

“I'm a historically frail individual,” I answered. “Upper body strength is decidedly not my forte.”

Juri scoffed. “Yeah, I'm a weenie too, you don't need to make it sound so fancy.”

I would have replied, but I then properly noticed that Anzu's eyes were twitching as she and Tsukihi stood around waiting for us, and hurried to go follow. “Sorry, er, I figured I should—”

“Entertain the robot, yes, nailed it, moving on,” Anzu said, raising her hands and turning around.

* * *

The first area of Cinnamon Boulevard, to my untrained eye, looked like the sort of plain neighborhood I hadn't inhabited since I was nine years old. Roughly square houses, all in rows, with decorations like tacky lawn gnomes and flamingos, fences, lights, and other such sundries, placed chaotically about the premises. One particularly unlucky house had a flamingo on its roof.

When Juri leapt out of the jeep to go inspect the flamingo house, her report was thus: “I don't think this is actually a house.” The doorframe, filled with a plain, white, open door, opened to a sheer wall, not even decorated with the light yellow paint and slated construction that the house's walls had given. A look inside from the windows told us that while it appeared to be a normal kitchen, the exits and entrances didn't quite make sense, with a door across from us leading to a hallway across from which was another, different kitchen, which had a window on the other side that was not visible from outside the house.

To contrast, the lawns were in a near-completely uniform state of trimming, being all about the same level of ignorable grass with no weeds to speak of. Some flowers and garden spots had been set, but these were as chaotic as the others, and at some point or another I noticed a house with a cactus growing out of its front porch.

The road branched a few times, and Minato took the turns according to the left-hand rule. I had been given charge of today's map, so I dutifully worked in the background. My foot kept tapping on the floor, and I will admit to you I was rather antsy.

I was broken from my reverie upon our roughly fifth turn, when Tsukihi called out, “Stop the jeep.” Minato did so, and Tsukihi pointed to a house near us. A cactus was growing out of its front porch. “We've passed this house before.” Anzu loudly groaned. “Kuromatsu, turn back around and drive the way we came.”

“You got it, boss lady,” Minato said, putting the jeep in reverse and driving back. “Man, mazes that don't follow the laws of physics are neat! I've got jitters!” He did, in fact, have jitters.

Whatever the case was, returning the way we came did, in fact, return us the way we came. We arrived once again to the flamingo house at the front. Staring down at my map, I began to nibble on the end of my pen. It wasn't too hard to locate the point at which we had found the same houses we'd already passed, but this was something of a difficult mapping task.

“Hold on,” I called out, as Minato had begun to look like he wanted to continue exploring. “We should—well, I'd rather not impose, but Nagisa said that it was close to the entrance... It might give us a landmark, if we can find where it's stored.”

“By 'it', you mean this possession of yours,” Tsukihi said, and I nodded. “Alright. Stop the jeep, Kuromatsu. We can explore on foot.”

“Yeah, sure,” Minato said. As he got out of the car, he crossed his arms and puffed up his cheeks as though he were thinking.

The space between the entryway and the first split in the path was roughly seven houses long, from eyeballing it. All five of us exited the car, and began searching in our own directions. Anzu, Tsukihi, and I had taken the right half of the street, and together the three of us began inspecting each facsimile of a house to its fullest extent.

A flash of white.

“Eh?” I blinked, staring into the window of a house just across from the initial flamingo-roofed house. There was—

“Hey, you okay?” Anzu called out, attempting to force the lock on a particularly sturdy fence. It didn't appear to be budging. “Don't space on me now.”

Tsukihi had already begun to head off to the next house, which was separated from the next by a line of fencing. She gestured for me to follow, and follow, I did, until I walked just to the side of that fence.

_Hehehe..._

But that wasn't a fence at all, that I was standing next to.

I turned my head, and I saw, without a doubt, an alley in between the two houses' fencing. As opposed to everywhere else in this samey boulevard, the pavement on this ground was old, and uneven, with the fencing lined with ivy, covered in fruit—red, paper-textured fruit that I didn't recognize. As I stepped in, I saw what looked to be a few small moths, flapping behind me and into the sky.

One, two, three unsteady steps. As I stepped further into this alley, my shoes clacking on the rough pavement, something else—

At the end of that alleyway was _her_.

That white sundress of hers had been adorned, now, with a matching white cloak, which fluttered behind her as she stood from the discarded box in front of the building. Out of the corner of my eye, I swore I could see a moth fly just by her, landing on her cloak. Her gaze did not fall on me—instead, she smiled as she gently played with a flower in her hands.

“It's beautiful, isn't it?” she asked me. “Do you know what this one is called?”

It was a pink flower. It had five petals, deeply cut and fringed, splitting off into small strands. Though I was still a meter or so away from her, I could still smell its sweet scent.

“Um...” I stammered out. “You'd, um, you'd have to ask Ryo.”

She giggled. “No, silly. _I_ know. I was just wondering if you did.”

“I... um, no, I don't,” I said, shaking my head. “I'm sorry.”

And she took a step toward me, and two, and then reached forward and caressed my cheeks with those soft, slender hands of hers.

“It's alright, Yuki,” she said. “Maybe I can teach you later.”

That building was... yes, a dojo. An old-fashioned dojo. I'd seen them before, and visited them, but to have one suddenly appear in front of me was quite something.

More something, though

were those soft, slender hands which caressed my face, filling me with an indescribable surge of emotion. “Yuki...?” she asked, a tinge of sadness in her smiling eyes. “You haven't forgotten about me, have you?”

“I—”

I could only answer honestly.

“I—I could never forget about you, Mai. Ever. Ever, ever.”

Mai's eyes closed as she smiled, the most incredibly, bright, shining, dazzling smile, as though she were a stained glass window in a castle that the god that angels like Phanuel served might bless.

“I missed you,” I said. “I missed you... I missed you.”

“We don't have to part again, Yuki,” Mai said, leaning forward and—

My breath hitched and my eyes widened. For a second, it was as though time had stopped, but then she was back to the distance she'd been before.

“Come on,” Mai said, her arms draped around my shoulders, guiding me to look at that dojo behind her. “Aren't you excited? You can get your sword back. And then we can—”

“Hey!”

I started awake. A small, pink flower was in my hand, and on my shoulder, Mai's—no, that wasn't—

“A-Anzu,” I said, turning my head, my muscles beginning to work again. “Anzu. Hi.”

“You're looking awfully spacey,” Anzu commented, snorting, “for someone who might've just found a prized possession she thought she'd lost.”

“What?” I blinked, and then remembered that I was in front of this dojo where, more than likely, my long nightmare could come to at least a partial end. “Oh, right. Yes.”

“Weirdo,” Anzu said, narrowing her eyes. I heard the other three come up behind, and belatedly remembered hearing something that sounded like Anzu yelling a few moments before I came to. “Hey, Mai found this.”

“I'm pretty sure I don't remember this being here,” Juri said, her hands on her haunches. “But hey! Staple mazes, invisible paths. Why not.”

“Yeah, it's exciting!” Minato jumped up and down again, his hands under his chin like a giddy child. “So what's with the dojo?”

“I—I don't know, honestly,” I said, righting my posture. “But it does seem an appropriate location.”

The sliding doors on the front gave way easily,

and the next few moments were a rush of motion and emotion as I ran, then crouched on my knees.

A simple, unadorned, plain wooden katana sat, in its sheath, atop an ornamental stand in the back of the dojo. A blank calligraphy sheet sat on the wall behind it. The light through the walls of the dojo came in orange, as though it were sunset.

Tears began to come to my eyes. I meant to say something, I did, but the noise that came out was, “A-ah...”

I was on my knees, splayed out, the tears beginning to fall though I made no noise. The four who'd accompanied me were speaking, but I couldn't understand what. Not now, not when I'd finally, finally, finally, finally, finally, finally finally finally finally finally finally finally _finally_

found it, found the one object that gave me peace in a chaotic world

it was that simple, unadorned, plain wooden katana and its simple, unadorned, plain wooden sheath

and I reached out to touch it.

What words they were speaking seemed to die down. Any layman could notice my shift as I grasped the hilt that felt so natural in my hands. My breathing slowed, my posture righted itself, and I let out a deep, relieved sigh.

“Here it is,” I said. Though tears were still falling from my eyes, I finally had a buoy with which to weather the sea of my heart. I grabbed it, and held it up, before placing it at its rightful place on my left hip. “...Are there any practice swords to the side there? If any of you wouldn't mind me taking a few swings at you, I mean.”

“W-what's with the voice?” Juri asked. Prior to this, in many cases I had been affecting it somewhat higher, and had finally returned to my natural pitch.

“There are,” Tsukihi said, and I took that as her volunteering, a notion bolstered by the sound of her producing a blade. “Please go easy on me. I haven't done this in quite some time.”

“I'll try,” I said, turning around, a steely gaze in my eye. Tsukihi's form with a practice kendo blade wasn't poor, but it also clearly wasn't trained. It was easy to see she favored her left side, with a few minor, but noticeable defensive cracks in the posture of her right flank. I stood in front of her, waiting, the room silent, Juri, Minato, and Anzu watching in rapt attention.

My left thumb pushed upward onto the hilt, cracking the lock on my blade's sheath, a motion which left my heart feeling as though I'd finally been given a breath, and in one smooth motion I grasped the hilt with my right hand and drew out my blade in a horizontal slash that immediately forced Tsukihi on the defensive.

With the blade on her left side, now, and her recovering from blocking my drawing slash, I re-positioned myself slightly and grasped my sword's hilt in both hands before coming in for a deliberately noticeable overhead slash, which Tsukihi also managed to block. The recoil on my strike was surprisingly strong for my lithe frame, or so I imagine she thought, so I took the opportunity to reposition again and go for a diagonally upward slice to the blade in her hand from her right flank.

That attack loosened the grip from one of her hands on her sword, so I weaved to the side and struck the blade upward again from her right flank, leaving her blade flying out of her hands and falling to the floor with a sad rattle.

I let out a breath, then nodded and sheathed my blade. “Thank you,” I said, bowing my head.

Tsukihi returned the bow, and had this been in a more official capacity, we likely would've rung a gong at this moment. For now, though, I just had a quiet assurance that I was once again truly capable of defending myself.

“My apologies for keeping you all waiting,” I said with my head still bowed, before raising it.

“Huh,” Anzu said, nodding her head, her arms crossed.

“One law of the Orihara family is that when a child is adopted into the family, they're given a new name. I don't know why Nagisa chose to address me like she did, but when she said Yuki, she was referring to me.” I turned, grabbed a holstered calligraphy brush near the sheet of calligraphy paper, and drew out my name on it. “It's an unconventional spelling, as you can see. In my ventures outside of the family, aside from using my Orihara name on stage, **I've been using the surname Yamada**.”

“Ahhh, yup, yup, that tracks,” Minato said, nodding with his eyes closed, no doubt recalling his having seen my entry on the Persons of Interest terminal.

“Sorry for keeping this secret,” I said, re-holstering the brush and turning back around, “but I'm normally not supposed to tell this to people I only met three days ago... and I didn't have this,” I said, slightly moving the sword upward to gesture to it. “It's a family heirloom of sorts. We've been together for some time.”

“And that's all?” Tsukihi asked, with a stern tone that belied her disaffected gaze.

I nodded. “That's all. Sorry to have worried you.” With a shrug, I added, “I'm just a strange person, I suppose.”

“I see,” Tsukihi said. Her body was still tense, though, her fingers wriggling slightly. “Should we keep this inside this room, then?”

“No,” I said, “that won't be necessary. Now that I've gotten this back, I intend to explain this to the others once we've returned as well.” I gave them a self-confident smile. “For now, though, let's get back to work. I've had a thought.”

For all the pomp and circumstance, once the conversation was over, Juri shrugged and said, “So you're also a samurai with two names, sure, yup, makes perfect sense,” turning away like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Mmhm.”

As I stepped past to slide open the door, I passed Anzu, whose face was steady, and who had turned to begin leaving herself. “You don't seem surprised,” I said.

“I already knew you were weird,” Anzu said. She snorted.

Under my breath, but loud enough that she could hear, I asked, “You're not going to want to fight me yourself now, are you?”

“Shut the hell up, princess,” Anzu hissed, giving me a light shove. I laughed, and stepped back through the door into the sunlight.


	19. Nameless Samurai, 4 ~ Intruders

Once upon a time, a very pretty girl was born.

This girl was special. She was born with hair as white as snow, skin as pale as a sheet, and the most brilliantly red eyes.

When she was born, the doctors and her parents all said that she was one of the prettiest babies they'd ever seen. She even cried and screamed beautifully.

As she grew older, the beautiful baby girl became a beautiful young girl, who wished to be as normal children.

But she could not, her parents said. It was self-evident.

She was so, _so_ pretty.

And those who were pretty like her

their skin _burned_ at the light of the sun

and their eyes, their eyes! It would blind them!

So she became an indoor child. But this did not stop her from being beautiful. Her parents knew she was the most beautiful girl who had ever lived.

And her teachers said it, and the students at her school, and those who saw her on those rare occasions that she was allowed outside, escorted by her parents.

She was so, so, so pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. Such a pretty little girl.

“But I don't want to be pretty,” she said to her parents once. “My friends get jealous of me, and everyone _stares_. I didn't ask for this.”

When she realized she was on the floor, it had already happened. Her father had struck her. “Don't be so cheeky,” he said. “Your beauty is a gift.”

“You are a lady,” her mother said. “You are a lady, and you must act like one. And a pretty girl like you is to be the best lady she can possibly be. And you can be such an amazing lady. After all, you are so very, very pretty.”

“Yes, Mother. Yes, Father,” the girl said. “My beauty is a gift. It is good for ladies to be beautiful.”

And perhaps if she said it enough, she could see what made them so happy. She could understand her own gift. So she would stare, and stare, and stare at her own reflection

and look at that girl, with her hair as white as snow, and her skin as pale as a sheet, and the most brilliantly red eyes

and know that she was so, so, very, very pretty.

So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So pretty.

“Look, Mother,” she said at last. Her eyes were full of tears. “I am so pretty.”

* * *

“If this is based on the Affliction's view of this part of their life,” I said, as we headed back to the jeep, “then this is subjective. It's their view of how this sort of place looked. Right?” I got general murmurs of assent. “But that doesn't mean there isn't somewhere to find. Minato, procedural generation by machine learning oftentimes—”

“—results in weird stuff the further out you get, yeah,” Minato said, and I could hear him nodding. “The further you get from an input created directly by a human, like, say, predictive text can get really weird. It'll create what it knows that, based on patterns, it makes sense to connect, but that doesn't always work the same way.”

“No offense, Phanuel,” I said, with a nod to Phanuel, who was now sitting on the edge of the jeep, “but my theory is that there is a specific, very vivid image of a house where the Affliction lived somewhere in this maze, and that the closer we get to it, the less chaotic the images of the houses will become. They'll have a closer and closer recall without needing to 'make up' what was further out.”

“Yeah, um, no offense taken,” Phanuel said, hopping off the edge of the jeep and passing me. I turned to see them passing by the rest of the group, as well, hopping up to take a look at the red plants. “Huh...”

“What's wrong?” Tsukihi asked.

“I just didn't think you guys would be able to... Well, this area is part of _Yuki's_ cognition, so what is it doing here?” Phanuel muttered, running their hands along the ivy. “How would you guys... did Nagisa let you in?”

That gave me some pause. “What? I just—”

“How _did_ you find this place?” Anzu asked.

“Well, I—” The answer to that was simple. I turned and I found it, right? There was this passage in between... and yet, hadn't there just been a flat fence, before? Had I flipped some kind of trigger? And— “Wait, how do _you_ not know?”

“Yeah, yeah, that's the weird thing!” Phanuel nodded fervently. “I should know! If Nagisa was going to put in a pathway into your part of the dream from here, I... can I even do that? Is that—” They shook their head. “I-I shouldn't be worrying you guys, sorry. I guess it's a good thing, right? You got your sword back!”

I blinked, and then looked down at the sword on whose hilt my hand rested. “I... I guess. This alley is part of my head? I've never visited a dojo like that. I don't even know what those plants are.”

“Yuki...” Phanuel shook their head. “Do you really want me to get in-depth about how your psyche must work to cause this in front of four different people you met three days ago?”

“You're right, let's ignore this,” I said.

“So what you're telling us,” Tsukihi said, getting into the driver's seat of the jeep before anyone else had even started moving toward it, “is that Yuki isn't this round's Sinner, either, because her own cognition being here wouldn't be abnormal at all.”

There was a long, awkward pause.

“Oh heck!” Phanuel said, their pupils and irises vanishing and their face going utterly white. “Um!”

There was another, longer, even more awkward pause.

“I can't tell you to ignore that, so all I can do! Is hope Nagisa isn't too mad!” Phanuel squeaked. And then everyone's favorite Petty Officer vanished.

Anzu patted me on the back. “Congratulations.”

“Well, I didn't think it was me to begin with, really,” I said, shaking my head.

* * *

We began our drive. I continued mapping out to the best of my ability, and inwardly hoped that this odd bit of cognitive warping would be removed once we cleared the area like the caution tape in Wataru's mind. “Hey, Yuki,” Minato said, now that he, without control of the jeep or the music, was given a moment to actually let himself think. “Awkward question, I know, but should we still call you, like, a woman?”

“Eh?” I blinked.

“Well, it's just, I couldn't _read_ the thing but your, y'know, the, uh, the Persons of Interest terminal, had two different gender markers for you. I don't wanna just go thinking of my new favorite little sleuth the wrong way!” I could see Minato's eyes widening in the rearview mirror. “So like, are you still Kenichiro's daughter, or is that just 'Mai'?”

“Ah, I see.” I nodded. “You're right, that is an awkward question.”

“My B!” Minato raised his hands.

“It's not one I mind answering, though,” I said. “I don't have a particular problem with being referred to as a woman, and feminine nouns like 'daughter' are certainly more correct than not, especially with the clinical, impersonal feeling of words like 'child'. With that said, I'm not entirely a woman, either. I'm definitely not a man... I suppose you could say I'm woman-_adjacent_?”

What ensued was a difficult bit of hand-wringing attempting to explain the fine details of how what I am is different from being simply a woman when I myself did not have the vocabulary to explain it. This is one case where the English language actually makes things much easier to the gendered nature of its pronouns—an easy way to underline it for yourself is that I use they/them pronouns ideally, but could correctly be labeled a lesbian as well. It's a form of non-binary expression that it's taken me a long time to wrap my own head around, let alone other people's.

(Since we are clear here, it's worth noting that the difference between people using 'she' and 'they' pronouns for me in dialogue is almost entirely a representation of their mental understanding of me, as such a conversational flag does not nearly so easily exist in Japanese, which we are actually speaking during these events, in case I had not made that clear yet with the previous translation difficulties. It makes me wonder why it is that English, a language that is essentially the polar opposite in many important ways of my native language, just had to be the lingua franca I decided to write in. That's a frustrating bit of circumstance that makes me shake my fist impotently at the legacy of colonialism, but what else is new when you're a politically-aware twenty-something in at least three historically marginalized groups?)

This experience, which could only charitably be called a 'discussion' considering the degree to which it was almost entirely just me blathering, went along on a very wobbly track as Anzu, Juri, Minato, and Tsukihi paid attention to what was actually happening as opposed to just idly mapping.

“...and actually, I was rather surprised that nobody asked why I wasn't discounting Juri and Zoe out of hand when I was explaining why Wataru was the Prince,” I said. “I expected at least one person in a group of thirteen to. Not to cast aspersions on anyone in particular—”

“Oh my _fucking_ god,” Anzu groaned into the window.

“What? I'm sorry, did I say something bad?” I asked, my hands seizing up.

“_How long can you fucking talk?!_” Anzu placed her hands on the window, too.

“Over ten minutes,” Juri responded, looking out the window herself, staring quietly with a pensive look to her face.

“Don't you have to take a breath ever? For someone who's 'historically frail', you've got the lung capacity of a fucking Olympic swimmer!” Anzu said, craning her head around to stare, her face scrunched up in bafflement, at me.

“Is... is that a bad thing?” I asked, shrinking slightly in my seat.

“No, it's not a bad thing,” Tsukihi said, adjusting the rearview mirror slightly.. “I'd call it impressive. May I ask you a question?” I made a noise of assent. “Is your father aware?”

“Yes,” I said. “Ryo, too.”

“Why,” Tsukihi asked, “if he was your caretaker, did you not go into his care instead of Shizuku Orihara's?”

The jeep went silent for a moment. “Oh, turn right,” Minato said, and Tsukihi did so.

“That's...” I trailed off. “I... I don't know, actually. He definitely intended to adopt me... He'd told me that multiple times, said his wife would absolutely adore me, but...”

“Don't most orphanages give the kid some say in it?” Minato asked, his eyebrow raising on the side of his face craned toward the outside, so I could see it.

“...Um,” I mumbled. “Well, I mean, yes, technically many of the children there were orphans, but I don't think that means it was necessarily an _orphanage_...”

“What was it, then?” Anzu asked.

I went just a little cold as I realized what I'd just been asked. “Um...” I murmured. “I-I...” Unconsciously, I began looking around to sides of the street we were on, even though logically I knew there could be nobody there. “I... um, that is...”

My arm fidgeted its way onto the hilt of my sword.

“I'm not actually at liberty to tell you that,” I said. “One of the conditions of my entry into the Orihara family was that the fine details of my circumstances between the fire and my becoming an Orihara were secret to all those who weren't already aware.”

“Ah.” Tsukihi nodded. “A Kozakura NDA.”

Named after the previous Prime Minister, Ryuji Kozakura, the Kozakura NDAs were a series of reasonably uniform non-disclosure agreements signed mostly between the years of 2030 and 2035 (when Kozakura left office). The fine print on these agreements were largely rather similar. Generally, the Kozakura NDAs were for the sake of protecting certain individuals in the Japanese cabinet's interests, and were given to private citizens to bar them from outwardly speaking about official, confidential government matters that they found accidentally, or incidentally.

Tsukihi was correct in her observation—my Kozakura NDA, in 2036, was actually the final one signed, being that it was an extension of a similar Kozakura NDA that I'd signed four years ago. With that said... “I'm surprised you know what those are,” I said, my eyes widening. “That isn't common knowledge.”

“When did you have the notion that I was a common person?” Tsukihi asked, and the matter-of-fact tone in her voice made me briefly dart my eyes toward Anzu, who was visibly rolling hers.

“Ugh, don't remind me,” Minato groaned, throwing his hands up. “The fine print on those things is _ridiculous_. It took me hours to go through all of it!”

—Eh?

“H-hey!” Juri called out, suddenly, rocking me from my thought process. “There's, uh. There's a bloodstain.”

All five of us looked out the left-side window at her urging. It didn't take me long to spot what she meant—in the middle of this curve on the street stood a plain, blue, two-floor house with a bloodstain strewn across its front door. This house was obviously different from the others in one very clear and obvious manner—there was a vehicle in its driveway, a plain, black SUV. The blinds were closed, making it, amidst all the false homes, feel almost pleasantly uninviting.

Here it was. I grabbed the hilt of my sword and said, “Let's go look.”

Something inside of me was screaming not to enter that house, but with my sword, I could stifle it.

In the mailbox on the front of the house, I found the next piece of the Affliction's tale. “...but a microorganism cannot understand people,” I read aloud for the four behind me.

“If we operate wholly literally, this would presumably be about some kind of serial killer,” Tsukihi said. I turned around to check what she thought of her own statement, and she felt about as derisive about it as I did. “Somehow I doubt that.”

“So we've gotta find what they 'killed'?” Minato asked. He'd been given the job of carrying the backpack this time, which he huffed cheerily on his shoulders.

“Unless Yuki's just not mentioning that someone here recognizes this house and so they already know who it is,” Anzu said, rolling her eyes.

I turned around and levied a glare at her. “Excuse me. Even if that were the case”—and at this I leaned forward and put my hands on my hips—“just forcibly outing them for an incident we don't understand would have no _meaning—_”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Anzu brushed past me and put her hand on the door, which got Juri to squeak. “You even talk different with that thing. Weirdo.”

I lightly shoved Anzu's shoulder and pouted at her, and said, “Jerk. You all understand where I'm coming from, aren't you?”

“Oh my god, get a room,” was Juri's groaned response. She placed two fingers on the center of her forehead and pressed.

The door was not locked, and Anzu was able to easily open the door.

* * *

It was harder to breathe in this house.

Where Wataru's mind had been a static grey, this home was colder, more oppressively dark. Despite the morning light filtering in through the windows in the entryway and living room, those lights seemed to fade and become wispy before they reached the ground. The walls seemed to have some sort of color, but that darkness made them all fill much closer to a black. We could see, but it was so dark it felt like our sight was not sight.

In addition, there was something else notable about this house—

“Um, guys?” Minato said, standing next to a wooden drawer fixture at the entrance, his head reaching its top. “Do people really sell things like this?”

—as though the scale had been magnified by a certain amount, this house was larger on its inside than on its outside. The general shape appeared to be the same, but an entryway which could comfortably fit any of us became an entryway for giants that we were coincidentally able to squeak through.

The traditional step at the entryway was much larger than any of us were used to, but it wasn't unapproachable, much more like a proper stair. “I should warn you all that we should attempt to avoid basements if possible,” Tsukihi said. She nodded to herself, crossing her arms. “Houses with this sort of spatial distortion never have kind basements.”

“It's on flat ground, where would you even fit a basement?” Anzu scoffed.

After I flipped to another page on the notepad to begin mapping the house, my initial survey gave me the following; to our front through this entryway was a fairly sizable living room. The right wall's door entered into a restroom. The living room had two exits—one in the back to another hallway, and to the left was a door to the house's backyard.

“Walk quietly,” I said, “in case there's already something in here.”

The living room had a three-cushion sofa along with two larger cushions atop a fairly plain carpet whose design seemed to somehow defy categorization. These seats surrounded a decently large television of a make from... “Minato, how old is that TV?” I asked.

“Gonna eyeball that one at about twenty-ish years old,” Minato said, stepping over to inspect a TV that should not have been as equal to his height as it was. “Hmm... looks used, I think, there's some wear and tear from moving. So it might not be current to whenever this is, but a TV like this definitely wouldn't be from the 10's or earlier.”

“Yeah, I think that's about a '24?” Juri posited, and Minato nodded.

My thumb remained on my sword as I opened the door into the next hallway, and Anzu and Tsukihi were immediately on-guard to protect me from inside the hallway as I saw what it connected to—a modest, utilitarian kitchen, with another exit out into the backyard, which poured in more of that light which did not reach.

“Stairs up in here,” Anzu said. A quicker look inside the kitchen showed me that there was another door still inside, from which I could hear what sounded like a faint sound of...

“Is that a television?” I asked. That was what it sounded like, like some sort of vague program playing in the next room. It couldn't have been a very large room by virtue of the house's architecture.

There was a pause. “Can we leave that one for last? That's the one that's gonna make a monster pop out for sure,” Juri said, and she was visibly shivering, her teeth chattering.

“Sure,” I said. I kept my grip on my sword, and kept a formation with Anzu and Tsukihi to keep us guarded from all directions as we climbed the stairs. Each creak of the wood as we climbed these platforms (which took a non-zero amount of effort for which imperfections in the wood were quite helpful), rang out so loudly I thought for certain something was going to burst out from the corner at any moment.

Up the stairs was a more closed-in second floor, with one open door in the center of its main hallway leading into a laundry room just in front of the stairs. There was a closed door just to our left, and to our right, a corner turned around behind us to a few other doors on the hallway, eventually leading to a closed door right at the end.

Tsukihi was the one to open the door to our left, and she declared, “This appears to be a study of some sort.” There was a desk, another seat, a lamp upon that desk, and a few bookshelves full of books which, from this distance, I couldn't quite get a read on. Anzu poked her head inside the laundry room, and Juri was the one who took the first step forward, which made a loud, piercing _creak_

and then we heard something.

Something that came from that door at the end of the hall.

It was a little laugh, deep and warbling like it had been distorted.

Juri froze, utterly petrified, as her head turned toward that door, behind which we could hear _something_ shuffling. To steady my breathing, I whipped around in front of her and put my other hand on my sword to be ready to draw at any moment.

Then the doorknob started to turn, and click, and open,

as we saw a shadow larger than any human's behind the door.

_Schloop. Schloop. Schloop._

There was a wet noise, almost like wet flesh hitting the ground, as the door opened.

My first thought was that it had the shape of a perfume bottle.

There was a round, _bulbous_ midsection of something smooth, and red, not quite flesh, almost like solidified gelatin. Through that smooth surface, occasionally, human eyes would swim, with pink whites and yellow irises that looked almost like rose petals. They would appear, and then sink back in, swimming around and around on the midsection.

Beneath that midsection, I saw what made that noise. The bottle had tentacles coming out from under it, so many small, sucking tentacles that seemed to be writhing along like feelers on the bottom of an undersea creature, that would twist along and reach up and into the thing's bottom and slither around beneath its jelly-like body like veins.

They came to a narrow, pointed top, which tapered into a four-leaf clover pattern of rounded, blobby extensions on the thing's 'head', which were tied together here like a radar dish by those tentacles. Some popped out the sides of other tentacles, sucking in air and writhing for no visible purpose. It looked almost paradoxically two-dimensional.

There were three holes in the thing's neck. Cavernous openings which led inside to a network of inner veins, pulsing with some sort of liquid I could not recognize.

And from somewhere, somewhere that this beast without a mouth could,

it _shrieked_

and a jet of pressurized air started striking the bottom of the stairs beneath us, and out of the corner of my eye I could see something rising

rising up the stairs with a tapered spout from its bottom, blasting that air down to raise itself up, was something _blue_,

with great, oversized, pulsating shoulders like gobs of flesh, letting loose down its 'arms' into a different, more metallic jelly with arm-like rectangles that then tapered into driving spikes

and in its center was a 'torso', the top of which was a thick pillar with small metallic spokes ebbing and flowing out like staircases

with what looked like a white mask, sitting, round and cold, on the front, almost as though it was a face

but it had no eyes, and no nose, and no mouth

and nothing but that little spout beneath it.

And this, too, with no hole,

_screamed_ at us.

So, I couldn't blame Juri and Minato

for joining the things

in screaming.


	20. Nameless Samurai, 5 ~ Breath Born from Mud

“Move–!”

I threw my arm back toward Minato, and he took my advice and stepped unsteadily back. For a split-second, I analyzed my options. The red beast was advancing slightly slower than the blue beast, and Anzu and Tsukihi had just poked their heads out of their rooms to see what the deal was. I could see Anzu brandishing her pipe, so–

“Anzu!” I called, dodging to my right toward the blue beast and releasing the lock on my sword. “Take the red!”

“What do you mean the–fuck is that thing?!” Anzu blurted, cutting herself off before shaking her head and following my instruction.

The angular blue thing raised its rectangular arm-spikes as I came near, but it wasn’t quick enough to avoid a drawing swing straight to its ‘face’. The white mask-like surface was hard enough to make a noticeable impact, so I followed up with an overhead strike to send it down a step.

A sputtering noise came from beneath me as the thing’s air took a brief pause. I had no illusions that beasts smart enough to come in a pincer attack to begin with weren’t smart enough to catch on to this, though, so I dodged to the side just as it finally managed to make a jab. The air felt so electric it was as though my skin had been cut, and that forced me to realize just how narrow a stairwell was for an out-and-out battle.

My eyes flicked up to see Anzu doing her best to whack at the red beast’s torso, but after a single strike to a floating eye, which had caused a noise of pain, the tentacles had reached out to grab her pipe. “Hey–!” She shouted. “I say you could have that?”

“Anzu!” Tsukihi called out, and there was a streak of red that slowed the advancing beast. As it landed against the floor, I realized that Tsukihi must have thrown one of her heels. “Get back!”

Wrenching the pipe out of the red thing’s tentacles as she quickly leapt to avoid a sweep from another tentacle, Anzu said, “Hey, can we switch or something?”

It was at this time that Minato spoke up, having opened the door back into the study Tsukihi had come from. “Hey, let’s make a new plan! Maybe!”

I looked up, turned, and started running back up the stairs. “He’s right. At the very least, it’ll mean they only have one entrance!”

“You good without a heel?!” Minato yelled, turning his head towards Tsukihi with a frenzied fervor that made his bush of hair shake wildly.

“I wore them for just this sort of purpose,” Tsukihi responded, following him into the study.

Juri, though, was stuck, cowering against the wall, shivering, sweating, teeth chattering, as she looked at the advancing beasts. “Oh, come on!” Anzu shouted, as she and I both pulled Juri with us into the study.

As I was the last in, I turned and locked the door behind me. This room was, in fact, a study, with an office desk and chair sat in the middle and several bookshelves on each of the side walls. The door which we’d taken sat across from a window on the other side of the wall, and in certain corners were oddly large things, not all of which I recognized. “Is that a phonograph?” Minato asked, laughing under his breath. It wasn’t very convincing. “Wow, that’s retro.”

“Shut up!” Anzu commanded, pulling up a bar out of an unfinished DIY project on the wall that looked like some sort of filing system. The metal bar stood in front of the door, and just in time, as I heard one of the beasts smacking against the wall. “Okay, we don’t know what these things can do, what do we do.”

“A-aaaah,” Juri said, curling into a ball on the ground and holding her head. “Ah, ah, aaaah, aaaaaah. No, no, please, please no, I’m sorry.” Her face was horribly pale.

“Shut up and help!” Anzu said, running around the room and beginning to pull on the bookshelves. Wham! Against the door, there was a crash.

“If these creatures are part of the–” Wham! “–stage, then there’s some sort of puzzle here,” Tsukihi said. She began rifling through the desks, making quite a lot of noise as she did so. _Wham! Wham!_

A single fragment of blue busted through the door, sending wood fragments just barely shooting past my head. “The hole is widening,” I said.

“_Aaaaah!_” Minato wailed, and again there was another strike. “A-anything in there, you two?!”

“No!” Both Itagakis cried at once. Another strike.

“Maybe it…” I muttered, pressing my finger against my temple. How could it see? Did it have some sort of alternate sense? Or, no, there simply wasn’t enough time to– “It’s okay, it’s okay,” I said, kneeling down to console a sobbing Juri.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Juri cried, and the strikes redoubled, pounding against the door even harder. More of the arm began to bust through. “I’m–”

“Wait!” Minato said, running over to the window. “Someone help me!”

Anzu and Tsukihi both hurried over, and the three of them together were able to lift up the oversized windowpane. Thankfully, the blinds were raised. I hurried over myself to look down, and–

“Fuck okay that’s high,” Anzu said, stepping back a few steps. “That’s really high.”

“No, no, it’s not,” Tsukihi said. She looked over to a tree just at the other side, right by the outside fence. “We can grab onto the tree if need be, but remember that this house is larger on the inside.”

“Yeah, uh, hopefully that isn’t to scale!” Minato said. He took a deep breath in, and then called out, “I’ll go first!”

“Wait–” I shouted, but it was too late. Minato leapt out of the window–

–and vanished. “W-what?!” I jumped back.

“Different instances, maybe!” Tsukihi said, as the red beast’s tentacles began to writhe through the door. “We have to chance it!” And she, too, leapt out and vanished.

Then, we heard, “Ohhhh man! Oh man I’m alive!” From outside. “I–Whoa!”

“Okay, I think that’s them,” I said. “Can you hear us, you two?!”

“Oof!” That was Tsukihi. “Yes–eurgh, I can. We’ll catch you if need be! Come on!”

“You go first,” I said, nodding to Anzu, and she nodded back. “Don’t die.”

“Fuck off,” Anzu responded, and she leapt out of the window, too. I launched over to pat Juri on the shoulders and whisper an encouragement enough to her to get her up and over to the window.

“Okay, just follow me, alright?” I asked.

“Too high,” Juri said, hugging herself tightly. “Gonna die.”

“We’re not going to die!” I called out. “They’re still on the other side! We’re going to–”

“Gonna die, gonna die, gonna die, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Juri continued muttering, shaking her head.

Hearing Anzu land on the outside, I nodded and said, “Okay, I’ll show you. I’ll call you when I’m outside, alright? If it’s too far, I’ll land on the tree and I’ll try and catch you.”

“What happened to ‘chronically frail’?!” Anzu shouted.

“_She’s really light!_” I shouted back, before turning back, nodding to Juri, and leaping out of the window myself.

Everything shifted as I jumped out of the window, and everything around me _warped_ just slightly as I re-entered normal space. I managed to catch a branch with my hands, and pull myself up onto it before looking down to see the other three down there. “Alright, Juri,” I said, turning back to the window. From outside, I could actually still see her, cowering in front of the window, shaking her head. “I’m outside. I’ll catch you!”

“No, no, no, no…” Juri sobbed, tears streaking down her face as her entire body quivered. “No no no no no.”

I held out my hand, though I knew it wouldn’t help. “Come on, Juri! Please, trust me! Jump!” Sweat redoubled on my brow as I saw the tentacles creep out from the darkness within the house towards me.

“Don’t like heights!” Juri screamed, and I saw the tentacles writhe. “No!” She shook her head again.

“Of _all_ the times!” I reached up and ran my fingers through my hair. “Damn it, I–!”

Suddenly, from below, I heard a _whack_ against the wall of the house, and I saw the tentacles briefly pause. “_Hey, assholes!_” Anzu shouted. “_Over here!_”

When the tentacles quickly receded, my eyes widened. “Oh, loud sounds!” I whispered. “You three, keep them distracted!” I looked down, and nodded to Tsukihi and Minato.

“Wait, don’t–!” Tsukihi yelled up, but it was too late. I leapt back in.

Again, the space around us _warped_, and I rolled back in through the window. Juri gasped, and as soon as I landed properly I felt her wrap her arms around me, her tears beginning to stain my dress. “Oh my god, oh my god,” Juri said, her breaths slowly deepening. “Oh my god you’re alive.”

I put my finger in front of my mouth, and peeked over her shoulder to see a last fleck of red head down toward the ground floor. “Okay,” I whispered, holding Juri’s shoulders and looking her in the eyes, “it’s okay. It’s okay.” I nodded toward her, steadying my breathing into a calming pattern for her to imitate. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Repeat after me, it is okay.”

“It’s okay,” Juri said. By the darting of her eyes, she wasn’t wholly convinced, but I was able to calm her down. “You’re really okay.”

“Yes,” I said, nodding. Our voices were a hushed whisper. “Alright. Anzu, Tsukihi, and Minato are distracting them, they’re on the ground floor. We’re safe up here for now. Do you feel up to a bit of reconnaissance?”

“Not really,” Juri shook her head, but she stood up anyway.

We both took off our shoes to ensure we were as quiet as possible, and then opened the nearly-broken door as best we could. The sound of pressurized air, as well as Anzu striking against the wall, came from somewhere by the downstairs living room, so I gestured with my head toward the room the red beast had come from. Juri gritted her teeth, but she followed me, and we both crouched down to make as little noise as possible.

If I weren’t in front, I have a feeling that I’d have seen Juri utterly baffled that I could be so stealthy. (For the record, it’s an important skill to learn when you’re the daughter of a wealthy politician’s family in a home with wooden floors.) From below, we could hear Anzu shift positions, and the sound of the blue beast’s air shifted again. Could the beasts not leave the house? In a way, that would make sense, so I logged that in my theories and continued.

One of the two doors on the left past where we’d been before was ajar, and when I noticed Juri stop moving, I looked back to see her frozen as her eyes peeked into the room, so I joined her in that.

Inside, based on the size of the bed, was clearly a child’s room. It was sparsely decorated, with a number of dusty dolls to the side in a bin being the only really notable feature outside of a closet. There wasn’t a television, a computer, or anything of that nature inside the room; the one shelf that contained any books contained only a few, a number of which looked to have been taken from the study. The ones that weren’t were largely dry, academic texts, albeit ones for children.

The bed, plainly sheeted in white, stood atop a metal frame. Underneath it was… a gate. A metal, barred gate. From my faraway gaze, it looked to be roughly large enough to block the door.

There was soft sobbing from inside the room, with no clear source. It was as though something within its walls was crying to be let out. I blinked, shook my head, and put my hand on Juri’s shoulder, mouthing, “We need to keep going.” She shook herself awake and nodded back.

Next we reached a bathroom, and then we reached the red beast’s room. As soon as I reached out to the door, I smelled again that sickly-sweet scent that came from it as it appeared, and I recoiled slightly. My eyes began to water. As I did, Juri came up beside me, shook her head, made a swiping motion with her hands, and then came past me, her breathing utterly halted, to quietly slide open the door.

Given my prior experience with Juri, I won’t lie and say I wasn’t actually rather impressed with her ability to be quiet as she snuck in here. The sliding door took some effort to close once we entered the room proper, and as we did, I heard Anzu yell, “C’mon, bastard! Here, I’m shouting louder than your mom did last night!”

The smell was strongest outside the room, but it was still definitely present inside. I stood up and whispered, “Alright, we need to be quickly in and out.” This, unsurprisingly, did not seem like a monster’s room so much as a person’s room that just happened to smell like unfortunate amounts of perfume. Red curtains hung on the canopy bed and the window outside, and as I stood in there for a moment, I realized that a heady air of smoke had also mingled with the perfume scent.

Darting my eyes to a two-level oak nightstand, I saw a well-used ashtray with a few cigarette butts lying within it, still seeming to smolder no matter how long they had been put out. A lamp sat upon it as well, and a small diary on the level that was just by my arms. “Check the other side,” I whispered to Juri, and she nodded and passed by a wooden dresser that spanned most of the rest of the wall beside the door as she went toward it.

The diary was, admittedly, more the size of a dictionary given its increased scale, but I did manage to get it open.

_5/8/20XX_

_ It’s loud again. It’s so loud, again. My counselor tells me it would likely be a good idea to get out of the house, but any time I do, when it comes back, it feels even worse. What am I even supposed to do. I keep telling him that I’ve already tried counseling and then he says maybe you should bring the whole family in but that would be so damn loud and Kyoshiro would just sit there and nod his dumb head like everything was fine. Stupid stupid stupid. I have a headache. My head hurts. _

_ Work isnt going well. I missed the account. They tell me I cant smoke in the office but damn it Im trying. Im leaning my head out of the window and I work on the third damn floor what is so wrong with that the smoke isn’t going to hurt anyone. Fuck! Fuck. I ask Kyoshiro to back me up and he just says yeah, sure, maybe in a day or two. Its so loud. I can hear it from down there. One of those stupid songs. I dont even know what this one is about. I swear one of these days Im going to snap. _

_ Why wont _[REDACTED]_ just stop fucking crying already. Why wont _[REDACTED] _just turn off that stupid music already. Why wont Kyoshiro stop it instead of yelling back, that makes it even worse!!! What did I marry him for. Why did I even have this stupid kid. Why am I even here. Why doesnt anyone listen when I tell them anything. My parents taped my mouth shut too and Im fine arent I? Probably shouldnt break my kids fingers. Would be hard to explain to the teachers. Want to though. Oh but then the crying. Fuck! Fuck._

_ Its coming from downstairs again and one of these days Im gonna_

The entry stopped there. I assure you that all the other entries prior to that point, which was the final entry, were mostly the same and had nothing really of interest. I frowned, as a bad taste had settled onto my tongue shortly after beginning to read this, and was not going to go away until I got a drink of some kind.

I poked my head under the curtains of the ungodly large canopy bed, which could likely fit about half of our entire group if we were to take it back, to find Juri on the other side going through some drawers. “Anything noteworthy?” I asked.

Juri turned her head to me, nodded, and gave a thumbs up, before picking up a few things out of a drawer. A triangle set, some wind chimes, an audio CD, and a TV remote.

As soon as she pulled that out, I heard a bit of wind begin to blow outside the room, and it was at that point I had a decent idea of what to do in this situation. I nodded to her, and then retreated back into the canopy bed.

There was a bit of uncomfortable jingling as Juri carried the goods with her, but if that “_Hurry the fuck up, my arms are tired!_” from downstairs was any indication, Anzu had enough fight left in her–not to mention I had no doubt that Tsukihi could pick up the slack.

“Alright,” I muttered, “where are they right now? Come on.” I urged Juri forward.

“I think they’re about at the exit from the living room?” Juri said, crossing her arms and scrunching her face into a puckered frown. “Should we tell them to stop?”

Shaking my head, I said, “Given their positions, it’s possible that the blue thing would return to where we need to go. We need to get down to the TV room.”

“Sorry I jinxed that earlier,” Juri said, and I nodded and assured her it was very alright, that it happens to all of us. If this is not true of you, I deeply, deeply envy the blessed, carefree life you have led.

We crouched and headed for the stairs, and I inwardly wished Ryo was here, as he would’ve been able to give me a much more accurate picture of the situation. That said, while I didn’t know how good Juri’s hearing actually was, it was certainly better than my own sense for this sort of thing.

I shot a look at Juri that was very calculated to get across the message of, “How quietly can you get down these stairs?”

Juri then responded with a smirk and a pat of her bicep that effortlessly detailed her answer– “Sister, you are talking to a master of stealth. Watch and learn.”

“Alright,” I nodded, “then lead the way. I’ll follow you.”

“You sure?” Juri tilted her head, raising her eyebrow.

“If you’re as quiet as you say you are, yes,” I conveyed. My glasses were annoyingly fogged from the air inside the red beast’s room, so I took them off to clean them before continuing my gesturing.

“Well, if you say so,” Juri shrugged, and began her descent. Since these stairs were rather large, she did need to make larger motions, but true to her word, she was surprisingly effective at distributing her weight to make as little noise as possible—perhaps it was her experience wearing heels that helped her walk on the front of her feet.

Her balance was also something of a shock to me. Given what a wildly whipping person she was when it came to conversation, her ability to maintain as light a foot as possible without stumbling once, down stairs that were over twice the size of a ‘regular’ staircase, was about as out of what I’d considered her wheelhouse as walking a tightrope would’ve been.

Imitating her, then, led to just the results she’d claimed. I copied her movements shot for shot as we headed down the stairs, the sounds of Anzu’s clamor against the walls and the beasts’ returned strikes growing steadily louder as we descended.

We reached the bottom of the stairs and continued down the hall, and Juri nodded, turned her head back to me, and gave a thumbs up before raising an eyebrow. I nodded back, and we continued on.

Our steps gingerly continued through the kitchen, where Juri made a few deft moves to avoid some pots and pans lying around that could’ve given us away. As we passed through the fading light, we reached the door to the room that was our goal, which Juri gently opened with both hands on the doorknob. (Thankfully, the hinges were well-oiled enough that there was no real squeaking.)

The room was roughly what I’d expected, with an old, squeaky recliner chair in its center. There was another television in here, one that was lower to the ground; it played footage that I couldn’t quite make out from the video quality, but of which there was undeniably sound. There was a dusty keyboard in the corner, too, conveniently enough.

“It’s a really good thing I didn’t bring Ryo,” I whispered to myself, before opening up a window and leaning my head out. I called out to Anzu, “Hey! Hurry into the TV room!”

My call’s effect was immediate, as one of the red beast’s eyes appeared _on the wall_ as soon as I leaned my head back in, staring directly at Juri, before receding and disappearing. “Let’s rock!” I called out, and set the wind chimes in front of the open window, just as a bit of a wind began to blow, and then leapt back into the recliner chair and started to, well, recline, letting out loud squeaks as I rocked back and forth to move the gargantuan chair.

Thankfully, the other three were faster than the beasts, and they reached the room roughly by the time I’d whipped out the TV remote and begun to ratchet the footage’s volume up. “What are we doing?” Tsukihi shouted, her hair slightly unkempt. She looked a bit uneven on only one heel.

I hurled the triangle at Minato, who missed it at first, but was able to grab it off of the ground. “Just make as much noise as possible!” (—_iro wa daichi ni sutete,_)

Anzu gave a thumbs up, and resumed bashing her pipe, which was now looking rather dented, against the floor, cracking some of the wood beneath it. I heard her begin to shout, as well, but just before that I heard the last hint of slapping tentacles meaning that the beasts were coming closer.

The TV’s max volume was startlingly high, (_kouya o hashiru shinigami no retsu, kuroku yugande,_) so it was the most audible thing as the blue beast broke through the wall of the room, and the red beast followed it in. I took a deep breath in, steeled myself,

And then I began to cry. (_makka ni moeru!_)

_Shiniyuku otoko-tachi wa_

The red beast let out another shriek, a loud, piercing shriek that managed to break through the din of the room, but it wasn’t directed at us. Through the crocodile tears I brought to my eyes, I saw it turn to the blue beast.

_Mamorubeki onna-tachi wa_

The blue beast turned itself, and tilted its ‘head’ as though it was confused as to its partner’s action. But then, it let out a hiss of pressurized air,

_Shiniyuku, onna-tachi wa_

And drove one of its spike-like hands directly into the red beast’s neck, into one of those openings.

and the red beast began to shriek, some of that viscous red fluid coming to its open tentacles and spurting out onto the ground beneath it,

_Aisuru otoko-tachi e!_

as the two beasts fell back and seemingly melted into the shadows together, the red fluid, too, sinking into the floor,

_Nani o kakeru no ka? Nani o nokosu no ka?_

_I pray, pray, to bring near the new day!_

and then everything went _silent._

* * *

I took a breath and halted my own tears, and everyone seemed to slowly realize that they could stop making noise, now that the music had stopped. Juri slumped over on the keyboard, being that she’d been hitting masses of keys with wild abandon.

Panting, I said, “I can’t,” breath, “believe,” breath, “that that worked.”

“You seemed really confident a minute ago!” Juri called back, flipping me the bird.

“That doesn’t mean I,” breath, “can believe it.”

The blackness of the house had begun to rapidly recede, leaving the house now looking like an ordinary, if old, suburban home. In addition, a quick _warp_ made it clear we had also solved the spatial distortion, being that the chair I was in was now reasonably sized for me and not something I had to actively rock back and forth to recline in.

Anzu, for all that she’d been hollering her lungs out, was back into form much quicker than either myself or Juri. “What the fuck just happened?” she asked, fiddling with her pipe to make sure it was still in proper condition.

“I can explain in,” breath, “a second if you’ll let me… catch my breath…”

I was allowed to catch my breath, and so I led the five of us back up to the red beast’s room (and on the way Tsukihi picked up her other heel, which thankfully was none the worse for wear,) picking up the now normally-sized diary amidst the still-pungent scent of perfume. “While Juri and I were investigating, we found this. I… well, I figured it out from there.”

As the other three read through it, Tsukihi’s expression grew more and more disdainful. “What a pleasant individual,” she remarked, once her eyes were about eighty percent lidded from the scornful snarl she wore.

“Wow, I’m completely lost!” Minato said, with a massive, toothy grin. He put his fists on his hips, leaned back, and looked toward the ceiling before saying, “Man! That was terrifying!”

Anzu seemed to not be able to look at the diary, averting her eyes and instead staring at Juri. “A fear of heights? Really?”

“Huh? I mean, not really?” Juri said, looking to the sides awkwardly before settling her gaze on me, to her right. I stared at her blankly. “Oh. Um, yeah, uh… sorry, I thought—it’s been a while since I…”

“You did well,” I said, patting Juri on the back. Turning my head to Anzu, who had leaned against the door, I said, “Really. Without her, we wouldn’t have been able to get in here nearly as easily. And she’s surprisingly adept with stairs,” I added.

I almost didn’t hear Juri mumble, “It’s almost the only thing I’ve got over Sachi at this point,” looking to the side with an air of self-mockery.

Minato did hear her. “Who’s Sachi?”

“Not right now,” Juri responded. I mouthed, ‘her little sister’, to Minato, and he nodded, closed his eyes, and gave an OK hand sign.

“I suppose we’ve cleared this segment of the stage, then,” Tsukihi said, closing the diary once she was entirely done. “Sonohara, the time.” It was about three o’clock. “We have time to explore a bit more. Let’s try and find the exit to this suburb.”

So, we all filed out of the house. “So, seriously, I don’t get it,” Minato said, and his voice was beginning to grate on my ears again. “What does this tell us?”

“Can we—” I began.

“We can talk about this later, Kuromatsu, _please_,” Tsukihi huffed out, and Minato was then quiet. And then—

The clock tower rang out.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.

And the sun in the sky

Moved forward to match the time.

I saw Anzu’s ears perk up at the sound of the clock tower ringing out, but I was more focused on the sun. “So,” Tsukihi said, “the day will be moving forward until we’ve finished this story of Nagisa’s.”

To our sides, there was another difference. The houses were no longer so uniform—the procedural glamour had been broken, and instead this was indeed now a suburb, with houses to their sides, produced in stark realism. In a way, it made it far more eerie, now that it really was a place where humans should’ve been. The jeep hadn’t moved, though.

Once we got into the jeep, Juri obviously, completely slumped into the seat, letting out a breath as though she were a balloon that had just lost all of its air. “Uuuuurgh,” she groaned.

“You did well,” I said, patting her shoulder again. “You should be proud of that.”

“I’m gonna dedicate the rest of my life to forgetting this ever happened,” Juri said, running her hands over her face.

We began to drive again, heading deeper into the suburb to try and find its end. Some of my mapping was able to still be used, but most of the actual location wasn’t particularly analogous.

Our drive was largely silent, all of us recuperating from the experience we’d just shared, and I was left to my own thoughts. The implications of this experience were clear to me, but the truth earnestly was that I didn’t fully understand yet, no matter if Anzu thought I was hiding something. I was _definitely_ ready to go home, though, as even if I was not constrained by my own physical limits, my mental limits were being reached as well.

But I continued to map, and map, and map, until we found it. Something that we could not simply ignore. Something that beyond which, the world shifted.

We all quietly left the jeep, walking forward to look at it. I imagine all of us had some sort of intrinsic response to a demolished building.

To the side of the road, which led into that cityscape, was a bit of wreckage. A house that had been destroyed, leaving only shattered, broken planks of wood, rain-soaked remnants of furniture.

There was a bloodstain in the center of that wreckage, along with a box for the second fragment of the Affliction’s tale. And all around it—

—inside this wreckage, patches of _static_ covered it, places where reality itself broke down into wreckage along with the house. Unearthly, like a television set had broken into reality, it covered enough in its blotchy patches that I couldn’t even tell what the house entirely originally looked like.

It made a faint hissing noise, this static, almost like the sound one of those televisions would make. And some of it even covered

_the skeletons in the corner who sat so sadly._


	21. Nameless Samurai, 6 ~ Persimmon Noble

“—and so I tell this fella, well, I know I've got the right of way and all, but that don't mean I'm gonna walk when there's a truck full o' little chickens gotta get through! What if they're hungry?”

“That's nice, Ms. Duke,” Zoe said, hefting a few boxes off of the transporter's table.

“Hey, don't you 'that's nice' her here,” Zenji said, his eyebrow twitching as he frowned and grabbed perhaps a few more boxes than were really necessary. “What, you don't care about chickens? Old bat.”

“See, he gets it!” Bella said, and she and Zenji shared a stern nod.

—Allow me to catch you up here. After the five of us left, the first thing that occurred was that Zenji left his room. An exchange between him and Park went essentially thus:

“Oh, Mr. Fuyutsuki, I, er, I see you're awake!” Park was tending to the flowers. “Have you looked out at the view, it's really something, Ryo what am I doing?”

Ryo, with a patient smile on his face, guided Park's hands in his work. Zenji responded, “Where is everyone?” He held his shovel over his shoulder, and his eyes were listing toward the infirmary.

“Ah, well, Saori and Wataru are in the infirmary, of course. As for Ms. Duke, Dr. Kitachi, and Mr. Washizu, I'm not entirely sure. The others have left for the new stage,” Park said, nodding to himself. “I was left behind and am, er, performing menial household chores.”

“Good on you,” Zenji said, with an awkward thumbs up.

—Then, of course, he left for the infirmary to watch over Saori.

“Hi, Zenji,” Saori said, with a little wave. Wataru was sitting up now, on the side of the bed, as Saori continued tending to a particularly pesky sore spot on his right side.

“...Uh, hey,” Zenji said, his eyes darting away. He cleared his throat. “Uh, sorry. About... yesterday.”

Zenji's lack of eye contact meant it took a moment for Wataru to realize he was being addressed. “Oh.”” Wataru blinked. “It's fine.” He smiled, closed his eyes, and waved his hand. “Water under the bridge.”

There was a moment's pause before Zenji let out a breath, and muttered, “Okay, that went alright.” He audibly slumped. “Either of you need anything? I might as well make myself useful.”

There was another moment's pause before Saori responded, “Oh, you're being nice. Yay.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Zenji said, rolling his eyes. “Don't have a cow, kid. I'm just practicing.”

When Wataru was baffled enough by Zenji's behavior to turn and look at Saori, Saori put a finger up to her mouth and whispered, “Zenji's being tsun-tsun because he's worried about apologizing t—”

“Saori!” Zenji snapped his fingers, his back turned. “Mouth shut.”

“Mm mmphm mmhm mm,” Saori responded.

“...Are you her keeper now?” Wataru tilted his head, leaning against the wall, making a slight wincing noise as he did. Zenji left without comment on this, but I can guarantee you he was frowning quite deeply as he left the room.

—The next event was that Bella left her room as Zenji was preparing refreshments, and the two of them ran into each other. “Hey,” Zenji said, giving a slight cock of the head in greeting.

“Howdy,” Bella responded, stretching fairly loudly. “Barely got a wink o' sleep, lemme tell you. How 'bout you?”

“My circadian rhythm is completely fucking thrown off by all this bullshit, is how about me,” Zenji responded, with a huffing grunt. “My hair's gonna go grey and I'm missing part of my upkeep.”

“Ooh, I feel that, don't I,” Bella said, crossing her arms and nodding. “I had a couple appointments to keep this week myself and I figure folks're real disappointed, my daddy's probably beside himself losin' my weekly check-in.”

“My dad's beside himself burning in hell,” Zenji responded.

There was a pause, during which Park and Ryo peeked their heads into the conversation, as Zenji and Bella had arrived in the main atrium.

“Shit. Wait. Let me try that again,” Zenji said, rapidly shaking his head. “Yeah. Mmhm. Definitely... felt. Yeah. Probably a few little old ladies...” Zenji's facial muscles at times like these do incredible acrobatics. “...missing the... hunky young man across the road, or... whatever.”

“I reckon you sure are,” Bella said, with a goofy little smirk, bumping her waist into Zenji's. Zenji stared at the invisible camera again.

As such, these two wound up being Saori and Wataru’s entertainment for the day. I’m sure Bella was beside herself getting to spend time with not one, but two ‘hunky young men’ for the time being. “You know, you don’t have to spend all this time on _me_,” Wataru said. He snorted to himself as he lay back down. “I’m not that weak.”

“Well, it’s my natural motherly instinct, sweetheart,” Bella said, sitting up from the seat she’d taken and petting Wataru on the head. “Had a rough day yesterday, right? Let us beautiful ladies care for you.”

It took Saori a moment before she realized she was being counted in that. “Oh. Wow.”

“Of course she was counting you in that,” Zenji said, rolling his eyes and throwing up his hands. He huffed as he hunched back over, one arm on his seat. “You’re an attractive young woman.”

“Wow,” Saori repeated, her ever-droopy expression curling its lips up slightly.

“Do you have to act so stunned every time someone says that?” Zenji rolled his eyes again. “Fuckin’ gender euphoria,” he muttered, putting two fingers on his forehead. “Hand me some euphoria, why don’t you, I could use some.”

“Okay,” Saori said, and used her hands to scoop something invisible up from her space and hand it to Zenji. “Here you go.”

“Wow, thanks,” Zenji said, and took her pile. “I feel happier already.”

“Sharing is caring,” Saori responded.

Bella was laughing and clapping for this moment of euphoric solidarity, but Wataru’s gaze was trailing out of the window by the bed. “What’s up, hun?” Bella asked.

“Someone just took my car,” Wataru answered.

The other three then crowded around the window, leaving Wataru, on the bed, rather cramped. Sure enough, Wataru’s car was being driven off from the mansion, though a period of observation showed it wasn’t heading to the new stage—instead, its goal was the supermarket. “Anyone see who was in it?” Wataru asked.

“Mm-mm,” Saori mumbled, shaking her head.

“Great,” Wataru said, and sighed. “I hope they’re not doing anything stupid—ow, Zenji, you’re on my leg.”

“Oh shit, sorry,” Zenji said, and he jumped backward off of the bed.

—Roughly an hour after that, it became clear who had taken the car when a certain Dr. Kitachi entered the infirmary. “Ms. Duke, Mr. Fuyutsuki,” Zoe said, striding into the room, “could I have your assistance? We need to go grocery shopping.”

The room, which had been embroiled in Zenji and Wataru having gotten into a heated best-of-95 match of rock-paper-scissors, stopped and turned to stare at her in unison. “Ah,” Zoe said, her eyes lighting up in realization, “and I’m sorry about your car, Wataru, but I left it at the supermarket. You can feel free to bring it back if you—”

“The fuck do you mean, ‘grocery shopping’?” Zenji snorted, slouching back in his seat.

“Wait, you left it at the supermarket and walked all the way back?” Wataru said, his eyes wide in befuddlement.

“No,” Zoe said, “but it would be easier to show you all what I mean than explain it. Can you walk, Wataru? Oh, and—” As he got up, she handed him a key. “I found it as I was scouting the place. I imagine it’s yours.”

He could walk, in fact, and so Zoe led the four of them, along with Park and Ryo, who had been happily doing some dishes together and chatting (by which I mean Park was rambling) about the intricacies of multiple seasons of Pretty Cure, up to the mansion’s entrance to the teleporter network, and explained how it worked from her observations. “I found the node in the supermarket as I was investigating,” she explained, “so I haven’t had the chance to return your car.”

“Wha,” Bella said.

“Haha, um.” Park blinked, rubbing the back of his head. “I’m sure we can ask Mai and Minato to explain this when they’ve come back.” (Zoe looked slightly put off at this remark, no doubt.) “Um! Thank you, Dr. Kitachi! I’m going to return to my chores and stop thinking about difficult things as I’m very overwhelmed right now!” And thus was Park off.

So, as you’ve no doubt gathered, eventually, Zoe managed to convince Bella and Zenji to assist her in a round of grocery shopping from the supermarket, as there were a number of items there that we didn’t have readily available at the mansion—well, I say she managed to convince both of them. Convincing Bella was quite easy, as she seemed to enjoy the idea of getting out of the house, but Zenji being Zenji, it took a bit more banter in his case.

The three of them arrived by the freezer, popping out of a box near it one by one. The thirteen boxes sat over by the wall where I’d pulled the switch last time, and when Zenji was given the chance to look at his surroundings, he saw that the box they’d exited from was adorned with a white scarf. “Where’d you get that?” he asked Zoe.

“It was lying underneath it when I found the node,” Zoe answered. “I opted to drape it over so we’d be able to distinguish this box.”

With that answered, Zenji opted to start grumbling. “Fuckin’ ran off in the car off to the supermarket by yourself and I’m the problematic one for trying to do my own thing. Hypocrite.” He clicked his tongue.

“I won’t say you’re wrong,” Zoe responded, “just that I wasn’t in much of a state to be talking to people just yet.”

“Oh, is that right,” Zenji said, turning his head toward Zoe and putting his hands on his waist.

“Yes, it is,” Zoe said, mirroring the gesture.

Popping up into the center of the two of them, her hands rising up as a fabulous American blockade, Bella declared, “Now, hold your horses, you two, or else you’ll be bickering ‘til the cows come home.”

—To go into explicit detail about all of the supplies they obtained would be painful and boring, and I doubt I could properly replicate all of the details of whatever rambling country tale Bella had to offer. I will thus inform you of the one important fragment of this time.

As Zenji was exploring over by the alcohol, on a lark, he checked underneath the shelves on which the bottles were seated. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to find, considering this supermarket had no further life in it.

But what he found was a little hint of static.

“...Wha?” he murmured. “The fuck is—” And he reached his finger out to touch it.

“—tsst! Ow!” Zenji recoiled, swinging his hand around to improve its circulation. Whatever this was on the ground, touching it with his skin had caused… what was this, a burn? He blew on his finger, but the stinging sensation wouldn’t go away that easily.

“I see you saw it, too.”

Zoe came to see him after that noise, and soon Bella joined them. “You really touched it?” Zoe asked, rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, I fucking touched it, and it hurts,” Zenji spat. He stood up, holding his finger in one hand to staunch the slowly-receding pain. “Why is there static on the ground?”

“That’s a fantastic question,” Zoe said.

* * *

One, two, three, on the clock tower continued to ring. Ten rings. Zenji stopped in his carrying the instant he heard it, and it took him about four rings to realize that there was something off about the _sound_ that clock tower made.

“It’s completely off,” Zoe observed. Her gaze towards the direction of the clock tower was dispassionate and narrow. “Ten o’ clock passed a long time ago.”

“Shut up,” Zenji muttered, putting a head on his hand and stepping away from the groceries he’d started to organize. He left the dining room and started pacing back into the atrium, murmuring notes under his breath.

But, no, it was evading him. He hadn’t been listening closely enough. When he sighed and stopped running his fingers through his hair, he realized that Ryo had sat down next to him as everyone else worked on organizing. “Huh?” He muttered.

Ryo was humming. He was humming fragments of the melody—yes, it had definitely been a melody that that clock tower had made—to himself. His face was scrunched up, his bushy hair falling slightly further over his face, and his eyes were closed.

“...You noticed it too?” Zenji asked, and Ryo nodded before continuing to hum those broken fragments that he’d managed to catch. “Your pitch is pretty good, kid.”

“Mom says so,” Ryo answered, before un-scrunching his face and similarly giving up. He gave a little frown toward the floor. “Likes me singing.”

“So you’re a florist _and_ you can sing?” Zenji raised an eyebrow, and Ryo nodded. “Geez,” Zenji sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Younger they get, the more talents they have…”

Ryo tilted his head, but then turned away, muttering, “Begonia, begonia,” to himself. Zenji, being a man who dealt in vegetables and not flowers, was stymied.

“Look, just—” Zenji started, raising his arms in a flailing gesture to try to appeal to the youth or something. “Can you remember notes like that?” Ryo nodded. “I’m gonna—here, I’m gonna grab a—”

Zenji had gained the ability to run reasonably fast from all of his time on the farm, so it was not long before he was back with a piece of sheet music. “When you hear the—when it makes the noises again, remember them, and then sing them to me, and I can write them down. Okay?” Ryo’s eyes were wide, and he recoiled slightly from the very tall man who had leaned uncomfortably close in to him. “Uh, shit, sorry,” Zenji said, starting back and inching away slightly to reach a more comfortable distance from Ryo.

“Mmhm, got it,” Ryo muttered. “Um, ‘good to work with you’.” He still looked rather like a deer in the headlights.

“Eh?” Zenji raised his eyebrow, before similarly looking away, his eyes darting down almost like an embarrassed child’s. “Um, yeah. You too. You…” He crouched down, then, staring intently at Ryo. “Huh.”

“A-ah,” Ryo said, bringing his hands up to his ears in defense.

“Your eyes,” Zenji said, blinking. “They’re… uh, sorry. Your eyes remind me of Kyosuke.”

“Ayana?” Ryo asked, tilting his head a bit oddly far to the side.

Zenji started to stop talking, but he soon realized that at some point, Saori had drifted out of the infirmary and sat down next to the two of them, and she looked at him curiously. “Uh, yeah,” Zenji said, rubbing the back of his head and sitting back down on the side of the fountain. “They’re the same color, that weird violet color.”

“Nagisa’s eyes are red,” Saori said. Her head-tilt, on the other hand, was very minute.

“Oh, yeah, they didn’t look anything alike,” Zenji said, crossing his arms, scrunching his eyes, and nodding. “I mean, you remember what h—no you don’t, shit, right, yeah, no, Kyosuke mostly just looked like a normal kid. Pretty weird next to his mummy sister, looking all pale and B-movie monster-y. It’s not like they’re not related, Kyosuke said his dad said she mostly looked like his grandma or something. Shouldn’t you be working?”

“Wataru’s taking a shower,” Saori answered, and that was that.

“Right,” Zenji said, then leaned further back and stared up into the skylight. He put one leg up on his other, and the length of his legs meant Ryo had to scoot away just slightly. “Wait, shit, _shit_—” And then he stood up and dashed back toward the dining room so as not to incur the wrath of the waiting Dr. Kitachi.

“What is the appeal, then,” that very same Dr. Kitachi asked, turned toward the sink and washing her hands, very pointedly not reacting to Zenji’s entry, “of these frivolous, sputtering sorts of men, Bella? I don’t _get_ it.”

“Well, I reckon a lotta girls figure they can fix ‘em,” Bella said, with her head very far into a cabinet, “turn ‘em into right upstanding fellas what ain’t got too many problems. Project boys, if you will.”

“Then what do you do,” Zoe asked, “when that project boy’s issues extend to preferring to spend time with children than doing what has been asked of—”

“It was _important_!” Zenji protested, throwing his arms wide (as though they could see him). “And Saori’s twenty-two!”

“And ain’t Zenji twelve, Doc?” Bella asked, and though that got Zenji to grunt, inwardly he was quite pleased that she was on his side here.

Fourteen.

When next the clock tower rang out, it rang out fourteen times. True to their word, Zenji and Ryo collaborated to ensure they were able to get down the melody. Zenji looked down at his hastily scribbled sheet.

The way this was described to me, as someone who is not a master of music in the slightest, is that the first four rang out in B2, C3, D3, and E3. The next four were in D3, C3, C3, and D3. The next four were in D3, E3, C3, and B2. Then, it cut off with a D3 and a C3. These apparently refer to sheet music notation or something.

“I didn’t know clock towers _rang_ fourteen times,” said Bella, who leaned in to watch the two boys at work, her chin in her hands as she stretched herself across the library table.

“They don’t,” Zenji said, placing his finishing touches on his incomplete sheet. He left room for ten more notes. “Probably means something or whatever. Can they hurry up and get back already?”

* * *

_“This static is a mark of sin—but not the Affliction’s. You may ponder it if you wish, but for now you need only consider the bloodstains.”_

Once we had finished inspecting the home of the skeletons, the sun in the sky moved forward once again—to, as you might imagine, roughly two in the afternoon. We collectively decided to cut our investigation for the day here, as we were all rather tired… well, aside from Tsukihi, who I came to learn soon seemed to essentially have limitless energy.

As soon as I got into the car, I took a moment to slump over, a great deal of exhaustion catching up to me all at once. My hand fidgeted on my sword’s hilt to keep myself steady, but I still got a “Hey, you good?” from Minato, who was driving us back.

“As good as I can be,” I answered. “Should we use the terminal to return, or drive back?”

“Using the terminal makes better sense,” Tsukihi said, adjusting the rear-view mirror as she did. “If we can leave the jeep here, it will serve us better, and we have enough vehicles to manage travel to and from the library if necessary.”

So, we did. The terminal operated such that lying down in it with the selection set to the manor would cause a brief blackout, and then appearing in the manor’s terminal room. The waves of lethargy were beginning to hit me hard and fast, and I couldn’t help but gape when I glanced at Juri’s watch and learned it was only a quarter past three in the afternoon. It wasn’t still early, but it was still much earlier than the excursion _felt_.

“I—I think I need a nap, I’m sorry,” I said, gritting my teeth as another wave of exhaustion began to hit me. My body was _heavy_, unbearably heavy, and I couldn’t quite articulate why. With that said, if I were to pass out again, I had a feeling they wouldn’t be letting me out of the manor again for some time, so I forced myself to continue walking and attempt to reach my room under my own power. Minato, who had come last, had barely gotten back in the room by the time I started leaving, everyone’s words starting to fade out.

When I saw Zenji, Ryo, and Bella in the library, then, it came as a bit of a relief. Ryo noticed me immediately, and his wide-eyed reaction clued in the other two to realize that we’d returned. I saw Zenji grit his teeth awkwardly, his motions becoming somewhat jerky, but I was too relieved to see Ryo and Bella to really pay him much mind at the moment.

“Mai!” Bella jumped up from her seat, ran over, and immediately lent me a shoulder. “You alright, sweetie? You’re lookin’ awful pale.”

“Samurai Princess over here overexerted themself again,” Anzu said, coming out of the room behind me. “Where’s their room again?”

There was something rather comforting about having both Bella and Ryo around to immediately come to my aid, and moreso that Anzu wasn’t far behind. Ryo gave me an earnest look that meant that he would very much like to help me reach my room, so I allowed him to lead me by the hand, supporting myself on Bella’s shoulder.

As soon as I reached my bed and removed my glasses, I felt as though I lost the tension in my bones and briefly became a pile of jelly as I collapsed into my covers. The processing speed of my psyche finally began to normalize, and I realized all of a sudden how much of an assault it had been on my psyche to be inside that house, faced with beings my mind couldn’t properly process.

I heard Anzu close the door behind me, after which she groaned and said, “Okay, so _now_ you’re frail. I guess your endurance is just shit?”

“Partially,” I admitted, wiping sweat off of my brow as I laid my head down, doing my best to pat Ryo’s head as I did. “I never said I was _weak_.”

“Do they not send princesses to gym class?” Anzu wondered aloud, taking a seat at my desk chair, leaning onto its front. “Hey, Bella, did you go to gym class?”

“Aced it every time, I reckon,” Bella said, having to press on her temple to fiddle the memory out of the recesses of her mind. “I figure it ain’t that odd to be tired after six hours of whatever y’all did, though?”

“Hm,” I murmured, “maybe Anzu’s the odd one…”

“Hey, I’m tired, too,” Anzu said, putting her chin in her hands. “My arms are on fire and you don’t see me collapsing.”

“My _brain_ is on fire,” I responded. I noticed, out of the corner of my blurred vision, Ryo jumping, and hastily added, “Ryo, that was a metaphor, my brain is not literally on fire.”

“Oh,” Ryo said. “Good. Wouldn’t… don’t want that.”

“I’ll save you the explanation until we’re all gathered properly,” I said, looking at Bella and Ryo in turn, “but suffice it to say it was a very successful day of exploration.” I raised up my sword, and let myself give a smug little grin. “For me, at least.”

“Yeah, I’m only a little scarred,” Anzu snorted.

Ryo’s smile had a shiny quality to it that I could perceive even without my glasses on. “I’m glad!” He took a few steps over toward me and hugged me, a gesture I returned. “Glad you’ve got your sword.”

As soon as I opened my eyes from reciprocating his hug, though, I saw Anzu, with a raised eyebrow and crossed arms, looking at the two of us. “So he already knew about the sword,” Anzu said.

“Oh, yes,” I nodded. “I already told him… um, a day or two ago, I think. Why?”

“Interesting,” Anzu responded.

Bella took a moment to look between the two of us and ask, “Am I missin’ something here?”

“She does this thing where she’s suspicious of me but we’re also friends,” I said, and Bella nodded and let out a long ‘ohhhhh’.

“Well, to be fair, you go around acting like you’ve got more secrets than Carter’s got pills, sweetie.” Bella rubbed the back of her head and chuckled to herself, and I could just barely tell that she was blushing. “I can’t blame her.”

“She can’t blame me,” Anzu agreed. Her head tilted slightly towards Bella. “Not like you’re off scot-free, either.”

“Eh? Little ol’ me?” Bella gasped, putting her hand on her chest. “How do you figure?”

“Oh, _come on_,” Anzu answered, and Bella couldn’t deny that, by the dumbfounded look on her face. “I bet Bella Duke isn’t even your real name.”

That got Bella to sputter, waving her arms around. “Wha—hey, you hold on now! Why, I do declare! I—well, now even if it ain’t the only name I’ve ever gone by, it is perfectly real, little missy!” When Bella gets genuinely peeved, her face lights up particularly red, and she puffs out her cheeks and starts huffing. “Excuse you!”

“Don’t worry,” I said, chuckling under my breath, “Anzu does it to everyone. It must be an Itagaki thing.”

That got Anzu to glower at me. “Don’t you compare me to her.”

“It’s true, isn’t it? Your mother strongly distrusts Kenichiro for seemingly inexplicable reasons,” I said. “At least, I don’t understand why.”

“Yeah, well, I guess you take after your dad, huh?” Anzu snorted. “I can see the resemblance.”

“The suspicious, suspicious resemblance?” I asked, and Anzu nodded, glaring. “Oh, good! That means he can’t deny it.”

Bella’s face was scrunched up in confusion, and Anzu turned to her, shrugged, and said, “Yuki’s being weird again.”

Ryo reacted with noticeable surprise at the sound of my name, and Bella couldn’t hide her confusion, either. “Jumping the gun a bit, aren’t you?” I asked, raising my eyebrow, before raising my sword to make it visible to the room. “Since we found this while we were out, I’ll be explaining things to the room at large soon,” I said to Ryo and Bella. “The others are a little ahead of the curve on this.”

“I… I see,” Bella said, slowly nodding. “Well, now you got me all curious. Lucky you”—and she smirked at Anzu—“gettin’ to hear their debutante backstory and whatnot.”

“Oh, shut up,” Anzu said, throwing her hands up, groaning, and standing up to leave the room.

* * *

The first particular thing I noticed once the group had gathered in the dining room was, unsurprisingly, the absence of only one member—Kenichiro. “Doesn’t seem like he’s left his room all day,” Wataru said.

That was the second thing I noticed. It clicked in my brain that Wataru was sitting back in his seat, seemingly none the worse for wear, and I wasn’t able to physically stop myself from exclaiming “Wataru!” and running over to trap him in a hug as he stood up somewhat to greet me.

“Wha—hey, hold on,” Wataru said, a disbelieving laugh exiting his throat. My grip wasn’t particularly tight, so he was able to free his arm to rub the top of his head. “What’s the rush? And why do you have a s—”

A heavy “I’m so glad you’re okay!” heaved itself out of my throat as I buried my head in his chest, my glasses pressing uncomfortably against his jacket. Noticing that, I turned my head up to look at him. “I was _worried_ about you! You could’ve had serious complications that left you in bed for ages! If I’d caused that, I—”

“Hey, hey,” Wataru said, cutting off exclamations from Bella and Ryo. “You didn’t cause anything, c’mon.” He smiled. “I thought you and Tsukihi decided it was Nagisa who almost killed me.”

“Yes, but I was the one who primarily figured out that it was you. You could’ve gotten out if I’d—”

“And it probably would’ve been Minato or someone, right?” Wataru said, and Minato squeaked, being that he’d closed his eyes and crossed his arms, lost in thought. “You’re fine.” He patted me on the back. “No need to worry. C’mon, sit down.”

“Oh?” Zoe gave a curious glance at the both of us, raising her eyebrow. “When did the two of you become such good friends?”

That gave both me _and_ Wataru pause, him stopping before sitting down, me stopping on the way back to my seat. “Probably when he rescued me from a serious sensory overload two days ago and we shared a heavy, indirect conversation about his feelings regarding the incident at Kansai Super and the meanings we could take from it,” I said.

“Well, you did have to sit in my car and listen to my music,” Wataru offered, raising his hand a little. “Most people who do that are my friends.” Pause. “But yeah, probably then.”

“That’s good to hear,” Zoe said, smiling. Juri muttered something about protagonisting again, and I made a mental note to complain at her about that.

Once we’d all sat down, Tsukihi struck the table with a small counter-side bell she’d requisitioned from inside the magic room (with my permission, naturally), and said, “It’s good to see you all. How are we?”

“Are you serious?” Anzu scoffed.

“There are people here I haven’t seen today,” Tsukihi said, closing her eyes. “It’s a reasonable question.”

So, for their part, Zenji was scrunched up in silence, but Bella was as indomitably Bella as ever, and Zoe smiled and said, “I don’t believe I have any noteworthy problems.”

“We all have problems, Dr. Kitachi,” Tsukihi said.

That got Zoe to laugh a barking little laugh. “True enough!”

“Our first order of business,” Tsukihi continued, “is the matter of voting. Based on what I’ve seen today, I doubt that the individual we’re looking for at the moment is Mr. Washizu—as such, I would implore you to take this seriously, as this is your fate we are talking about here.”

“Wow,” Saori said, huddled up in her coat. “Heavy.”

“As was demonstrated in the previous round, due to the tiebreaker rule, going into a deliberation with our thinking divided is extremely dangerous. As such, we should decide now on how we intend to treat each Sinner,” Tsukihi said. She steepled her hands. “I am personally in favor of choosing Exonerate.”

“Er, may I ask why?” Park said, raising his hand.

“I have a vested interest in the idea of a ‘truth’ behind that night,” Tsukihi said, “and I’ve been pondering something. Namely, there are only thirteen of us here, but we are not the only survivors of that incident—far from it. Why were—”

“—why was Wataru taken, and not his sister, but both you and Anzu were taken?” I cut in, and Tsukihi nodded. “I’d been thinking about the same thing.”

“No matter how clearly delusional she is in some ways,” Tsukihi said, smiling a little in solidarity, “there is almost certainly some sort of internal logic to the choices of who she’s taken. Some reason that _we thirteen_, and no others, were taken.”

Juri’s eyebrows scrunched up behind her spiral glasses. “Okay?”

“Obviously, this means we can’t do nothing, in my eyes,” Tsukihi continued. “If we do nothing, and allow each Sinner to leave scot-free, the game may end faster, but the truth could disappear along with the memories of their sin. That, in my eyes, is unacceptable.”

“And as for why we shouldn’t Eject?” Zoe asked.

“Consider this,” Tsukihi said, crossing her arms and leaning back slightly. “What occurs if someone’s greatest sin is unrelated to the reason why they are here?”

That gave the room pause, and then Wataru said, “Well… if they got Ejected then, we’d never be able to find out.”

“Exactly,” Tsukihi said. “In my opinion, we all need to remain here as a precautionary measure. I seriously doubt every single one of us can count our greatest mistake as being directly related to that night.”

“I agree,” Zoe said. She pursed her lips. “I’d like to add that I think it might be deleterious to our psyches if we had to go back to our normal lives _immediately_ after having the rest of the group learn something so traumatic.”

“You think?” Minato asked.

“It gives us no time to get the outside perspective of the other participants,” Zoe answered. “I imagine Wataru had no idea how we might react. Near-electrocution aside, he seems to be in good spirits.”

“Yeah, as I can be.” Wataru nodded. “I mean, I slept like crap, but what else is new.”

“If Nagisa Ayana is a _therapist_, as Minato said,” Zoe continued, “then it’s certainly intentional that the setup of this game forces us into cohabitation with a wide variety of viewpoints that can more objectively understand issues we find astronomically large.”

“I hate therapists,” Zenji grumbled. I was able to hear Zoe stifle a ‘that explains a lot’ under her breath.

“So is that your professional opinion?” I asked, and Zoe nodded. “Alright. Should we take a vote?”

We did. In total, the motion of defaulting to Exoneration passed nine to three with one absence. “Sonohara, Fuyutsuki… Anzu,” Tsukihi said. “Can you explain your thinking?”

“Anzu’s probably just not raising her hand because you’re the one in charge of the vote,” Minato said with a toothy grin, which got Anzu to make a flicking motion. Ten to two. “What about you, Zenji?”

“Huh?” Zenji snapped to attention again, and I found myself wondering what on earth had him so distracted. “Uh, yeah, it’s fine. I don’t care.”

“That’s our Zenji,” Bella giggled, bending her hand downward. “This is important, sweetheart. You gotta have _some_ opinion, right?”

“Ah, well, I-I think the motion has passed, it’s just rather difficult to think about when your own self is on the line,” Park said, reaching up and idly tilting his cap. “I seriously doubt there’s any real opposition here. Eh? Ms. Sonohara?” He looked over. “Ms. Sonohara?”

“I don’t like any of the options,” Juri said.

“That ain’t unusual,” Bella said, her gaze growing furrowed and forlorn. “I don’t like ’em myself. I’m fixing to give myself a good scream once we get outta here, most likely.”

“Mm. Yeah,” Juri said. “Okay.” I couldn’t see her eyes behind her glasses, but her body lacked that manic energy she sometimes came into.

“If you see Mr. Washizu,” Tsukihi said to me, “do inform him. I imagine he would take it best coming from you.”

“Hopefully,” I said. With that all taken care of, I cleared my throat and said, “So, everyone, I have some things to clear up.”

“Does it have to do with the sword?” Saori asked, tilting her head.

Zenji snapped to attention and finally realized I had a sword on my hip, and then snapped to attention again when he realized that the object on my hip was, like, you know, a _sword_. “Uh.”

“So! Hi,” I said, waving a hand to the table. “Yesterday, Nagisa addressed someone named Yuki. That’s me. Hello. Sorry about the confusion.”

“_Ohhhhhh_,” Zenji said, realization dawning. I blinked in confusion, and so did much of the rest of the table. “Right, you’re an Orihara. Duh.” He shook his head. “Can’t believe I didn’t think of—”

“Excuse me!” Park cut in. His eyes were wide. “What are you talking about, Mr. Fuyutsuki?”

“Yeah, it’s an Orihara practice,” Zenji said. “Kids that are adopted get a new public name as Oriharas. This kid was named Mai when she entered the Orihara family, but Yuki’s her ‘actual’ name. Simple.”

A moment of silence passed before I slowly continued, “Um, yes… that’s correct?”

“Huh,” Wataru said, his face blank. “Okay. So, the sword…?”

“Most likely it’s a security blanket,” Zoe said, rubbing her chin. Ryo looked at her, tilting his head. “Ah, that’s a term that means an item that brings psychological peace,” she said, smiling back at him. “I’m saying they only felt comfortable speaking publicly about it because this item helps center them.”

“I’ve been having a very bad last few days!” I said, nodding. “I’m very sorry to have troubled you all!” I hastily bowed my head over the table. “Please forgive my transgressions and any confusion I might have caused you. Ideally, I should be less troublesome now that I have it back. And please call me Yuki,” I continued, raising my head back up. “If the subject’s already been broached, there’s no need for me to go by Mai. Really, I suppose it wasn’t entirely necessary to begin with—”

“Here comes Princess Chatterbox again,” Anzu said, and she and Juri shared a look that got me to stop in my tracks.

Once I stopped talking, there was another awkward pause before Wataru asked, “Uh, what is this about Nagisa—?”

“It happened while you were nearly dead,” Minato said, and Wataru nodded and made a small noise of understanding.

“Aha, f-forgive me if I occasionally slip up,” Park said, doing his best reassuring smile, “but I am glad it was nothing too deep or cryptic on that subject.”

With that hurdle jumped, we moved on to discussion about the story of the Affliction, and all of what we found: the twisted neighborhood, the distorted home, the red and blue beasts, the skeletons, the diary, and the halted time. Our difficulty in describing the beasts perhaps left something to be desired in terms of getting across the gravity of the situation, though. While the subject of the clock tower’s tune was interesting, a resounding shrug was all anyone here gave as to the question of what it _was_.

Once we finished explaining all we’d seen, the first to comment was Park. “Why, that’s a veritable treasure trove of symbolism. Where might we even begin?”

“Personally,” Tsukihi said, “though this might be somewhat biased, I believe it would be best to cease overt investigation for the day here and continue with fresh minds tomorrow. A good half of our number are most likely exhausted for some reason or another.”

This motion passed with no resistance whatsoever, and Tsukihi rang her bell once more, then proceeded to slightly, but visibly, relax. “Alright. It’s getting late. We should begin preparations to—”

I stood up. “If you’d let me, I’d love to cook dinner.”

Pause. “You can cook?” Anzu asked, raising an eyebrow.

“My landlord tells me I’m the best cook she’s had in her home in thirty years,” I said, and I couldn’t stop myself from giving a little wink.

Zenji turned to Ryo and said, “Never mind what I said earlier, you’re off the hook.” Ryo nodded.

“Yuki, darlin’, you _sure_ you’ve got the spoons for that?” Bella asked.

“Physical exhaustion from earlier aside, currently I have the only spoons I’ve had in four days. Let’s see…” I began opening up the cabinets and taking inventory, and was surprised to see just how varied the contents were. “Ah, I see,” I said, nodding. “This much will definitely do.”

“Ah, Yuki—!” Bella called out, but I heard Tsukihi put her hand on Bella’s shoulder.

“I doubt you’ll be able to stop them. It’s a fool’s errand at this point,” Tsukihi said. I heard from the noise that Bella let out that she had no recourse.

* * *

Eventually, realizing they had no hope of stopping me from cooking for thirteen people and doing a darn good job of it, people began to shuffle out of the room. Quickly, I found myself nearly alone.

...Nearly. When I turned around, I became aware that Zenji was still sitting in the same position he was stuck in. “Zenji?” I asked. “Are you okay?”

“You aren’t even using the honorifics anymore,” Zenji observed.

“Oh, um…” I paused, and began twiddling my fingers. “Would you prefer—”

“No,” Zenji said, and that was that.

Given how I perceived the world, it was exceedingly obvious to me that inside, Zenji was tightly wound into a little ball, having a hell of a time actually managing to say something that he needed to say. It seemed impolite of me to ask, so I simply continued working until—

“Can I help?” Zenji asked, slamming his hands on the table and standing up with far more fervor than such a benign question warranted.

I paused. “If you’d like to.” I paused, and took stock. “Given the amount… oh, could you help me peel the potatoes?”

So as not to make too much of a mess in the dining room, the two of us took a pile of potatoes out to the deck and took our seats on each side of a beach table by the sunset. Armed with our paring knives, we got to work.

Zenji cut with a skill and precision that belied his large, clumsy personality, flawlessly, delicately peeling the potatoes, yet remaining gentle. I, on the other hand… “God damn, kid, what are you, a blender?”

I looked down, and realized that I was about half of a potato ahead of Zenji in terms of speed. “Ah, I’ve always just been very dextrous,” I said, blushing and looking away. Inwardly chiding myself for appearing odd, I finished that potato, then waited until Zenji started on his second potato and began to perfectly mirror his movements so we would remain at the same pace.

It took a few more minutes before Zenji gritted his teeth, took a breath in, and said, “I’m sorry.”

“Hm?” I looked up. “What for?”

“About… well, you know…” Zenji sighed. “Two days ago. When we talked about your family.”

The memory of that conversation was already a little fuzzy in my head, but I could still remember. True enough, I’d been quite upset because of the direction the conversation had turned. “Oh,” I said.

“I… I went too far,” Zenji said, looking away. “I should’ve known… I mean, I get it, I guess… ugh.” He spat. “Shit. Sorry.”

I paused, and then said, “It’s… it’s alright. You couldn’t have known I’d react that way.” I paused. “So… you ‘get it’?”

“What it’s like to… you know, be a… rich kid,” Zenji said, still unable to meet my gaze. “And to not—”

“So it _is_ you,” I said, nodding my head. “You’re the last heir to the Fuyutsuki family.”

Zenji froze. “Shovel didn’t fool you, huh?”

“Well, my mother had a few sharp words for a certain runaway heir,” I giggled.

The Fuyutsuki family were the bloodline heirs to a great business conglomerate. The spelling of their name was slightly unusual, but I had yet to see Zenji’s name in writing, so I couldn’t quite place it. My mother had spoken of them as being a fairly distasteful group she had nevertheless had to deal with at times. However, ten years ago, their head, Genshu Fuyutsuki, had perished, and his only heir had, according to her, left his responsibility and money behind, leaving the conglomerate at something of a deadlocked standstill. By the time I left the Orihara home, the Fuyutsuki Group’s capital had decreased significantly for lack of the heir’s intervention.

With a heavy sigh, Zenji nodded. “Yeah. My old man was Genshu Fuyutsuki. We used to deal with the Oriharas, so…”

“It’s funny we’d run into each other here, then,” I said, and he nodded again. “Still, it’s a little unexpected.”

“Huh?” Zenji said.

“Well, the impression I’d always had of your father from Mom was that he was…” I tried to find a charitable way to phrase the colorful language my mother had occasionally used. “Perhaps—”

“A dirty pig only concerned with his bottom line?” Zenji asked. “Everything wrong with capitalism? You could kill him and you’d be doing the world a favor?”

His voice was low and bitter as he said all of this, but I nodded. “You and she appear to be of roughly one mind.”

Zenji’s hand gripped the hilt of his paring knife, but then he loosened. “So you’re saying it’s a bit odd that a piece of shit like him’s son would run off and become a farmer.”

“Among other things,” I said. I gave him a once-over, up and down. “Well, you’re rough, but you seem… ah, I’ve never gotten the impression that you’re at all an unkind man, Zenji.”

“Horseshit,” Zenji responded.

“No, no, it’s true,” I said, frantically nodding (and I had to reposition my glasses afterwards). “You’re obviously rough and uncouth… though I imagine a fair amount of that is put-on, right?”

“I don’t even know anymore,” Zenji answered, his shoulders slumping with a heavy sigh. “She ever say anything about me before then?”

“Obviously she never named you, but…” I paused, attempting again to try and be tactful. “She didn’t like you.”

Zenji snorted. “Yeah, no wonder.” He sighed, and looked up. “I guess I’m talking about this now. I mean, you seem like you get it. You’re an Orihara. You’re talking differently now that you’re not having to put that on. Be honest. Don’t filter it. I want to hear.”

I took a deep breath in, and began to imitate my mother. “‘The man’s son is no better than him. Genshu is old, but his brat has a smug, idiotic superiority complex like no other. The son is like the father—had that deep-seated belief that succeeding in capital meant you were inherently a superior human, and the boy gave these simpering little sneers to some of his assistants that made it obvious he barely even considered them human. He’s a bit famous now because of his good looks, but when he grows old he’ll just be another thoughtless tool of Genshu’s ministrations.’”

When I finished imitating Mom, Zenji’s head was low, and he was laughing in a way that shook his shoulders. “Damn,” he said. “Really nailed me there.”

“You’re not going to try and defend yourself?” I asked.

“Why? She was being pretty nice, all told,” Zenji responded. He shook his head. “I know things are complicated between you and her, but she was right on the mark with me. I…” He gripped the hilt of his paring knife again. “Fuck.” He took a deep breath in as though he were holding back tears, and raised his other hand, with potato clutched tightly, to stop me from responding. “When I was a kid, I was a real piece of shit. I bought right into everything Dad said.”

Zenji looked upwards, then, toward the ceiling of the deck. “‘You’re better.’ ‘We’re superior because we’re Fuyutsukis. We have the right to rule.’ ‘People exist to serve you.’ ‘Those without natural talent like yours are useless.’ I heard it, and I ate it up and spewed it back out like an idiot. I was Zenji Fuyutsuki, heir to a great throne and flawless opera virtuoso. I got into the business of opera real young because I was good at it, and people all squealed over my good looks and skills. I got popular and I thought it was my right to be popular, to have people… bow to me, I guess.”

“Mm,” I said. I nodded. “So… you broke out of that somehow, right?”

“Part of it was Kyosuke,” Zenji said. He sighed. “I’d been in the business for a few years, and I wasn’t old, I was 23, but Kyosuke was the same age I’d been when I entered the business, and he… well, he was a star just like me who was… kind, and sweet, and people still adored him. They adored him the _same_ way they adored me. Looking at him like a bunch of older stars looked at me back when I was younger sort of clicked something in my head, I guess. Made me start hating myself a little. I mean, I was already kinda miserable those days, but…”

“And your sibling?” I asked, and Zenji immediately stopped and began loudly sputtering. “Ah, I mean!” I started waving my hands as well, trying to calm him down. “Er, I assumed… you seemed like you got oddly angry at Wataru yesterday…”

Zenji stopped, grimaced, and then sighed, his shoulders slumping again. He shook his head, his ponytail making little noises as he did. “Was I that obvious?” I nodded. “Yeah, right. I’m obvious.”

“You really are,” I said.

After a moment to sink in the dig, Zenji said, “He wasn’t my full brother. Atsuya was my half-brother, from a different mother. I never knew my own mom, and I didn’t like his because she was a ‘commoner’, but…” He gave a wry smirk. “Atsuya... “

When he said his brother’s name, Zenji’s eyes lit up with a nostalgic spark that was more earnestly positive than anything I’d seen from him up until then. “Atsuya was a weird kid. Just did… weird things, but he was smart, smart as hell, way smarter than me. And he was… sweet. Didn’t really listen to a lot of people, kinda just did his own thing. Dad thought he was a lost cause, but even when I was younger I… loved him, I guess. I’d play around with him in whatever stupid way he wanted, and it was… fun.”

“That’s nice,” I said.

“I got to be a good person when I was playing with him, and even if I didn’t get it yet, that felt nice. He taught me a lot… about the world, and how it worked. If Dad hadn’t forced him and his mother to move out so I could focus on my career, I might’ve gotten it all a bit sooner. When he left, that was the first time I’d ever seen him cry, because he always had that little smile on his face, and somewhere in me I realized I didn’t even know how to really cry. But then, right as I was doubting myself, he showed up again to the opera, along with his mom. He showed up on opening night and Kyosuke saw me almost break down crying, listening to him talk the same way he had a year ago. Said he’d been lonely. He was sweet, offered to help backstage even though he didn’t know what he was doing. We played a little hide-and-seek before the show got on.”

I snorted, and Zenji looked up, glaring. “That’s adorable.”

“Yeah, okay, sure, moving on,” he said. “I’d already started thinking about this kind of stuff, so when Atsuya showed up, it meant I had to work as hard as I could. I had to be the best one on the stage for him, not for my old man, not for anyone else. Atsuya was the one I wanted to see me. But then…”

We were quiet for a moment.

“...He didn’t make it?” I asked. Zenji shook his head. “I’m so sorry.”

“Atsuya vanished in the fire. And... my old man tried to kill me,” Zenji said, with a dark laugh. “Tried to brain me over the head with a metal pipe. Looking up at him, at all this chaos, I realized... I was just a commodity. A fad. I looked up at him when he was about to kill me and I saw… I saw how much we looked alike.”

“Zenji…”

“People liked me for my looks. When I was older, when I still had the skill but wasn’t pretty, who would like me? I’d be nothing. I’d be replaced. My life could vanish in the blink of an eye. I barely got out alive. Dad burned to death.” He took a deep breath in. “No matter their class or anything else, people lost their minds, died, burned, everything. Everyone was all the same in death. Nothing that they were before even mattered. The woman who started it, I saw… I saw a kid pulling on her shirt, begging her, ‘Mom, please, stop, stop it,’ and it didn’t… even if I’d just gotten burnt I would’ve lost my face, I would’ve been useless. So I…”

“You ran away,” I said.

After a moment to catch his breath, Zenji continued. “I had the old man’s money. But I didn’t want it. After that, it all started to make sense. I wasn’t even really a person, I was just another of my old man. What I had, what I was, it was evil. I couldn’t… I couldn’t take it anymore. So I left. I locked up everything I had and… went out to the countryside.”

I nodded, and he added, “I wanted to see if I could become someone. Shit, I don’t know.” He threw up his hands and shrugged. “I just didn’t want to be part of that anymore.” He scoffed. “What would she say about that?”

I thought about that for a moment, and then said, “She would probably tell you that that was cowardly. That you had an obligation, if you had this moment of coming to god, to make things better with the power you had.”

There was another, long pause. The orange pallor of the sunset cast a red hue over Zenji’s frowning face, glowing off of the blade of his knife.

“Probably,” he said. Then, he shook his head. “I just want to learn how to be a good person.”

I gave him a smile, and put my hand on my chest. “Thank you for apologizing, Zenji. I… have faith that you’ll get there.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Zenji snorted.

After that, we didn’t talk. We sat, and peeled potatoes in a sort of solidarity I’d never expected to find here, as the sun above both of our heads slowly gave way into night. He and I didn’t need to exchange any more words. After all…

I knew I was no better than him.


	22. Nameless Samurai, 7 ~ Unwind

“Phewwww-_weee_!” Bella proclaimed, loudly taking a swig of her wine and reclining in her seat, having taken a long whiff of her still-steaming bowl of nikujaga. The lights on the deck's upper rafters gave the table a vaguely festive appearance despite the ordinary nature of the food, and I'm told it made her eyes really sparkle. “Been too long, too long!”

“Too long since what?” Zoe asked, before gingerly sipping the stew.

“Too long since I got to recline like this, I mean,” Bella said, putting her elbow on the table and waving her hand. “Neighborhoods in Japan're nice, but they're awful cramped sometimes. Back in Nevada, I'd go out and watch the stars at night with a glass of wine and my telescope, and sometimes I'd start hootin' and hollerin' so bad Daddy'd have to come out and tell me to shut my trap on account of how much fun I was having—Juri, sweetie, you aren't even tasting it!”

“_I am and it's delicious,_” said Juri, who I'm told was taking to my strew like a woman possessed. She drank it in, chewed on the meat, and then said, with her spoon still in her mouth, “Thish ish the firtht acthual good meal I'ff had in ageth.”

“That's worrying,” Zoe said. “What do you tend to subsist on?”

Juri removed her spoon from her mouth and answered, “Instant ramen, mostly.” This got Zoe and Bella to mutually grimace in concern at each other. “Hey! Hey.” Juri levied her spoon at the both of them, wobbling it threateningly. “Don't you make those faces at me. My circulatory system has been modified to subsist largely on water.”

“That's bull hockey, dear,” Bella said, and almost started sliding her bowl toward Juri before Juri deflected it with a spite beam from her spiral glasses. “But really, whoo-wee can Yuki cook.”

“They should teach me,” Juri said, before shoveling another spoonful into her mouth. “Maybe then I can clean up my apartment.”

“Your apartment need cleaning, dear? I could clean it,” Bella said. She patted her bicep. “I'm a right whiz at cleanin' things up fast-like!”

“Sure, sure—” Then Juri realized that meant she was essentially inviting Bella into her home, and started blushing and stammering. “Uh! Um! Well, I mean it's not a big deal, it's not like anyone ever comes over...”

“I feel that,” Zoe said, taking a drink of her own beer. “Nobody's been over to _my_ house in weeks.” She leaned back and rubbed her forehead. “Can't even show people what I'm working on, do you know how much I hate that?”

Juri ceased her stammering to look at Zoe, raising her eyebrow. “That's surprisingly open.”

“I can be open, I'm drinking with a group of like-minded ladies,” Zoe said, and took another swig of her beer, grimacing as she put it back down. “Ugh. I feel like I need a cig but I've never even had a cig. It's just that kind of feeling.”

“How about we don't, Doc?” Bella laughed, and reached over to softly pat Zoe on the shoulder. “I'll come over to your house, no worries! We both can.”

“What is with this house-inviting stuff?” Juri asked, shoveling more nikujaga into her mouth.

Zoe tapped her spoon on the table, making a decently loud sound as she did. “I hadn't realized how much I'd needed food,” she said, before taking a fairly large gulp of meat, onion, potato, and stew all at once, somehow. I'm not sure how she fit it all on the spoon, but that's what I'm told. “In more serious terms, Juri, are you alright?”

“Huh?” Juri tilted her head.

“From the description of what you all ran into, it sounds like you were having some real trouble,” Zoe said. “And you seemed rather upset earlier.”

Juri slumped over in one great motion and planted her face on the table. “I brain shit. Feels bad. I donno.” She craned her head up toward Bella. “How about you. How does it feel to eat stew partially prepared by your boyfriend.”

“Wha-huhwha?” Bella sputtered, her face immediately lighting up. “Excuse me! What now? Why, I never—I do declare—h-hush your mouth!”

Zoe narrowed her eyes. “What, you're nervous about it now? You publicly flirt with him.”

“Well, that don't mean—” Bella stopped, let out a heavy breath, and put a hand on her forehead. “I mean yes, am I going to claim he's not an attractive boy I enjoy the presence of, no, he's that alright, but... mmm, uh...” Her gaze softened a bit behind her hand. “Well, he's a good man, Zenji is. Good man, even if he's got a right foul manner sometimes. Well now, I'm awful glad we hit it off as we did, it's nice talkin' to a guy who's about my age, I—”

“Wait, how old are you?” Juri asked, and Bella squeaked and slapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. “Uhhh. How old are you?”

Gritting her teeth, Bella let her hand just slightly off of her mouth and squeaked, “Thirty-six?”

Juri blinked. “Oh, huh. You're looking pretty good for thirty-six.”

“Thirty-six isn't even that old,” Zoe scoffed, vaguely waving a hand at Juri. “Why, we're all in the same generation. Aside from Mrs. Itagaki and Mr. Washizu, we're all within the same twenty-year block.”

Having let that out, Bella squeaked again, and then looked down awkwardly at her hands. “I _feel_ old!” She put her hands up on her head. “A girl my age, only ever even had one boyfriend, not married, _what even am I, y'all_? I'm a _spinster_!” She wailed.

“I've never dated period,” Juri said.

“My last romantic relationship was in high school,” Zoe said.

“Oh, you too, huh?” Bella asked, and Zoe nodded. “Life's hard for swingin' singles!” She drank a bit of her wine. “Take advantage of your youth while you got it, Juri, dear!”

“You're in your thirties,” Juri said, and you could just barely see her rolling her eyes behind her glasses. “Okay, so now back to the flirting part.”

“Ah, well, uh, ah-heh,” Bella said, rubbing the back of her head. “I mean, yeah, Zenji might be my type, but... um, girls, you mind if I dispense with all the jokin' for a sec?”

“That's alright, go ahead,” Zoe said. Juri nodded, too.

Bella turned her head to the side, and looked distantly off into the darkening horizon. “I don't know what I'd do if I flirted like that and someone said yes,” she said, her voice low. “It's a joke, y'know? Got a bit of truth to it, but I don't really mean it. Last time I...” She held herself close, gripping her arms tightly. “I don't... romance brings out bad things in me, girls. I get scared of me, sometimes. I ain't a good girl. I don't... I can't _help_ myself 'cause I like making people smile by being all a fool, but I'm real glad he don't seem interested, I'd be scared as a babe of that. So I don't—I mean, sure he's my type and all, but I'm not—”

“'Why, doctor,'” Zoe said, taking a swig of her beer, “'I am so depressed.' And the doctor says, 'Go see Pagliacci the clown! He can make anybody happy!' And the patient says, 'Oh, but doctor, I _am_ Pagliacci the clown!'”

There was a moment of silence. “Wha.” Juri said.

“I get it. I'm saying I get it. It's a form of safe self-expression she can do because she's certain that Zenji would never respond positively to it. Self-expression is a difficult subject,” Zoe said. I'm told that at this point her words were beginning to get a little slurred. “And then she's also getting a little older and she feels awkward about her status as a woman because of her still being unmarried and averse to romance because of her poor personal habits on the subject, because parts of our society still place an unreal amount of importance on a woman's value decreasing as she gets older and being most validated by marriage, which is a _pile of bullshit_, and anyway I imagine multiple decades of experience would make for an improved sense of scale past what a teenager might have because teenagers are idiots! But that doesn't matter! Be a spinster if you want, Bella! Don't you let anyone tell you otherwise!”

Zoe slammed her bottle of beer down on the floor, grabbed her bowl, drank the rest of her stew, and then rested her forehead on the table. “I've got this coworker,” Zoe said, “and we're good friends and I wanna date the _shit_ out of that woman but I can't find the right time to tell her as much and instead I just backspace out of all the texts I write her so I don't seem too flirty. God. Fuck. I don't even know if she's into women. Fuck.”

Both Bella and Juri reached over to commiserate by patting Zoe on the shoulders, which caused Zoe to let out a pained sob of singlehood. “And you, Juri?” Bella asked, a small blush coming to her face. “How's about we make this mutual for Dr. Kitachi's sake?”

“Uh... I mean, yeah, uh...” Juri trailed off. “I've got... I mean, I don't think I've ever really liked a girl who'd like me back? I mean, I...” She made a few spitting noises. “Well, I mean...”

“Ahhhh,” Zoe nodded on the table, “into straight girls, are you.”

“I mean I don't think that's really necessarily the issue but I kind of guess it also is kind of _an_ issue or something,” Juri said. Then she shook her head. “The point is, headache! Big headache! Lots of headache.”

“Headache,” Zoe agreed.

“Headache!” Bella cried. She raised her glass. “Let's commiserate, girls! To bein' sad, messy singles!”

It was a bit awkward, but the three of them did, in fact, raise their various alcohol receptacles in a toast. “So, hey, what _is_ the appeal of that kind of guy?” Juri asked.

* * *

Once Wataru finished his bowl of nikujaga (which he greatly enjoyed, thank you,) he properly took a look at the key in his hands that Zoe had given him. He quietly stood up from the table, nodded his head, thanked me for the meal, and headed to the highest level.

It took him a few steps to realize that Minato was following him. He craned his head over his shoulder and raised his eyebrow. “Hey. What's up?”

“Nothin' much~” The much shorter man strutted up and put his hand on the wall, posing flamboyantly and winking. “Just following you.”

“Ah,” Wataru said, nodding, then turning around properly to face Minato. “See, I was mostly asking why you were following me.” He raised his hands. “Sorry. My bad. Should've been clearer.”

“Well, can you blame a boy for being curious?” Minato winked again. “A man of notable renown whose career I follow is off to a room full of personally relevant objects! Who among us could say that they wouldn't take the same opportunity?”

“So you're being a voyeur?” Wataru asked.

“I prefer to think of it as more taking an interest in my new pal's interests,” Minato said, and burst out a big ol' grin.

Wataru nodded and smiled. “You could've just said you were lonely, Minato. I don't mind you coming along.”

“Nice!” Minato fistbumped.

The room Wataru's key unlocked was on the right side of the floor, third from the right end of the hallway. The two men noticed, here, that on some of the doors were hung little signs. On the rightmost door was one that read, “Ryo's room!” with little heart and flower print on it. The door next to that said, “kenichiro wuz here!!” with a little doodle of Kenichiro in cool sunglasses at the bottom left and an action movie explosion to one corner. Next to that was Wataru's room, then an unknown room, and then a golden-embossed sign that said “Tsukihi Itagaki” like you'd get in an office building.

Once the two of them registered these signs and Wataru unlocked his door, Phanuel quickly opened the door a smidge and sidled out, then quickly hopped up more than their little legs should've been able to manage and hung a blue-and-white checkerboard flag sign embossed with Wataru's name and his driver number, which I can never remember no matter how many times I try. “Hi,” Wataru said.

“Hi hi!” Phanuel said. They landed on the ground with a little _pomf_ and puffed their chest proudly. (For the record, they'd changed back into their angel outfit.) “I thought it'd be nice.”

“Aww, that is nice,” Minato said. “Did you get Yuki's?”

“Huh?” Phanuel blinked, and then physically reacted as though a gust of wind had suddenly blown past them. “Oh! Oh, right! Sorry! I'll get right on it!” They ran past Wataru and Minato, even though they didn't actually need to.

“I heard you tried to show off their nudes or something today?” Wataru asked, and Minato huffed and stamped his foot. Wataru snorted.

“I mean, come on! Don't you ever just want to take apart a car you drive, see how it ticks, what its specs are?!” Minato said, a bit of spittle flying out of his mouth and striking Wataru's jacket. “It's totally normal, right?”

Wataru shrugged. “I think that's different.”

The room granted to Wataru for surmounting his trial was not particularly large. Its walls were a clean, sterile white, and both of the walls to the two's sides were covered by large, hanging racks covered in—to Minato's surprise, no doubt—cameras and lens of all sorts of makes dating back farther than these two had even been alive.

Wataru's face lit up, his eyes closing and his lips curling upwards into a grin. “Nice!” he said, pumping his fists, before running over to inspect the walls. “I don't even know some of these! Wow!” He darted back and forth between the cameras and the lenses. “Digital, analog, lens—hey, Minato, check if there's a light switch?”

Minato obeyed, and with a flick of a switch, the light in the room switched to a very dim orange shade, and a few more shelves arose from underneath the floor, in the center of the room, unveiling some sort of setup that he was utterly baffled by, but that Wataru seemed really excited by. “It's a real darkroom!” Wataru squealed. He ran over to inspect the area, which, with an enlarger, multiple timers, fluid, focus timer, and more, was so beyond Minato's modern ken that he just stood there in the safelight's dim glow, paying attention mostly to the small buzzing sound it made. “I've never been in one before—oh, don't touch the negatives, Wataru—I just had to make one at home!”

Watching dour, serious Wataru wiggle his hands together in excitement and grin with such unabashed glee was no doubt slightly surreal to Minato. “Uhhhh...? Like, for before they had digital film?”

“Yeah!” Wataru said, hurrying over and flipping the switch to flip the room back out of its darkroom form. “All these different cameras and equipment—and given the situation I could get some really incredible shots, what's this do?”

There was another switch on the far wall, which Wataru had darted over toward and flicked. The far wall began to retract into the ground, and the darkness of the early night began to trickle into the room as the lights dimmed themselves. The machinery shifted itself until the room was now equipped with a balcony, granting a sweeping, high-up view of the ocean by Zephyr-Lily Mansion, and Cinnamon Boulevard in the distance to one side. The stars twinkled in the night sky, and Wataru's eyes no doubt glowed with awe.

“So you do... photography?” Minato asked, tilting his head.

Wataru turned his head back toward Minato and nodded. “Yeah. I don't talk about it on the air much, but it's just something I enjoy, is all.” He smiled. “It's cool, right?”

Minato shrugged. “I don't really get it, but that's cool. Can I take apart one of these old clunkers?”

“No,” Wataru said, and Minato whined.

The next while of this was Wataru setting up a camera on a tripod stored elsewhere within the room to take a shot of the ocean to start with. He looked through the lens, hunched over to try and get his perfect angle, while Minato stood to the side and asked, “Hey, question. What's the point?”

“It's nice to get a good shot,” Wataru said.

“But you aren't gonna be able to keep it—unless Phanuel prints out the image data or something,” Minato corrected himself. “Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters. I'll have them while I'm here,” Wataru said. He smiled into his camera before taking a shot. “I'll be able to remember them after I leave if I don't have anything else. Plus, some photography might be good for investigation.”

“Ohhhh, yeah, that's a good point,” Minato said, crossing his arms and nodding his head. Then he shook his head, and turned away. “Haha, sorry. I'm letting Hotaru talk too much for—”

There was a few moments of silence before Wataru realized that Minato shutting up was unusual, and turned away from his camera to look. Minato had frozen in his position, turned away from Wataru. “Minato?” Wataru asked.

A small shiver went through Minato's spine, but he then turned back toward Wataru, a smile on his face that was slightly more plastic than his usual one. “Ahaha, sorry to worry you,” he said, his eyes closed, his arms against his sides. He giggled under his breath. “I'm fine.”

“You sure?” Wataru asked, raising his eyebrow. “You don't usually freeze like that. Who's Hotaru?”

Minato's smile grew a little wider. “He's my boyf—” Then he stopped himself, his eyes opening, a little frown coming to his face. “Ex, ex-boyfriend. He always thought stuff you couldn't keep was pointless,” and Minato came up and leaned over the balcony, unheeding of Wataru's cautious gaze still on him, “and I guess he kind of rubbed off on me, hehe. Sorry.”

“...Recent breakup?” Wataru asked. (Wataru, for his part, had never been in a serious romantic relationship, so I have no doubt he felt very awkward here.)

“Mmm, about a year and a half ago?” Minato hummed to himself. “The situation was kind of rough, and we couldn't keep seeing each other anymore. He works a real busy job, so long-distance wouldn't really work.” He pouted and made a high-pitched noise to himself. “He was a real character. It's thanks to him I got to where I am today.”

“Huh,” Wataru said, nodding to himself. “Gotcha.”

As Wataru continued in his work, taking shots of the horizon and of the distant Cinnamon Boulevard, Minato, after that exchange, grew more interested. He hovered closer to Wataru, making noises of interest and asking the occasional question about how it worked. I don't know exactly how long Wataru spent taking photos there, but apparently it was a very relaxing experience, as I'm told he nearly fell asleep at one point.

Eventually, though, he began to slow down more thoroughly. “Mm,” he said, “think I shouldn't have stayed up this long. Still working off the near-death.” He stood up from the balcony, gestured Minato in a bit further, and flipped the switch to close the wall again. Wataru was visibly sweating, and he put a hand up to his forehead. “Think I need some water. You can go, if you want.”

“No, no!” Minato shook his head. “I'd rather stay with you, Wataru.” He coyly batted his eyelashes, and went to go open the door.

Wataru stifled a 'seriously, are you okay' and left the room, heading to the nearby break room for some refreshment. The sink's tap water worked decently well, and the taste, as I can say from experience, wasn't awful. He grabbed some ice from an icebox in one of the cabinets in order to freeze his nerves into being a bit more awake. “Ugh,” Wataru said, gasping after taking a long drink of water, “this really isn't like me. I haven't spent this long in bed in years.”

“You're really tired, huh?” Minato asked, closing the door behind him.

“Yeah, I'm just trying to shake another hour or so out here,” Wataru said, taking another drink.

“Hmm, that's rough,” Minato said. “Want me to blow you?”

Wataru began violently coughing, as a bit of water going down his windpipe mingled with having just heard what Minato said to make a cocktail of debilitation. It took him a few moments to recover. “What?” he wheezed.

“You know, suck your dick,” Minato said. He grinned that same plastic grin as Wataru did his best to stand up again. “I always did that for Hotaru when he needed to stay awake. He tells me I'm a natural at it.” He paused, and began to unzip his jumpsuit. “You don't need to stop there, I mean, I—”

Wataru slumped against the wall to steady himself, and said, “We met three days ago, seriously, _are you okay_?”

I have very little doubt that Minato had a very particularly unfocused, glassy look in his eye as he continued, “—'m a real sexy guy. Hotaru always told me so. I mean, who would want to pass up sex with a hot catch like me?”

Underneath his jumpsuit, Wataru could see Minato was wearing little more than a tanktop. The slight curve of his shoulders naturally led one's eyes toward more of his tanned skin. With his breasts bound, his lithe form could lend itself well to aerodynamics. Wataru gritted his teeth, and began again to sweat. This was bad. Minato was still talking, his mutterings under his breath almost no longer even being directed at Wataru. He was larger than Minato, yes, but he didn't want to hurt the smaller man, and this was a small room with little space to move.

“—'ve got charms other guys just don't,” Minato muttered, “I'm pretty, I've got a nicer body than most guys, I should be proud of it, it's groovy, baby! I should use my charms, be proud of myself and what a catch I am, and a genius, too, who _needs_—”

“Open your mouth,” Wataru commanded.

“'Kay,” Minato said, and he opened his mouth wide. Grabbing another cube from the icebox, Wataru shoved an ice cube right into Minato's mouth. A brief moment of confusion made Minato shut his mouth, and then the raw chill of the ice cube made itself clear on the nerves in Minato's mouth, causing his normal tone of voice to reassert itself as he yelled inside his mouth. It took him a moment of paradoxically _covering_ his mouth to calm down, but by the time he pulled his hands away, his eyes were definitely more focused, and he was breathing heavily. “Gwah, wuh, bwuh,” he babbled as he opened his mouth and removed the ice cube, before leaning over onto the counter and panting.

“Okay,” Wataru said, heaving a sigh of relief. “That work? You back now?”

“Um,” Minato said, still heaving. “My, uh...” He then looked down and noticed that his jumpsuit was partially off, and jumped a little before zipping himself back into being properly decent. “Oh, um, oh god, oh god.” His head darted from side to side. “W-where am I? Where are we? I—_oh my god!_” Realization caused Minato to exclaim, and then he gasped to bring the air back in. “Oh god, oh my god.” He stepped back. “Oh my god, I'm so sorry!”

Wataru, whose breath had finally properly returned himself, raised a hand and said, “No, you're fine, just... you okay?”

“Shit, shit, shit shit shit shit,” Minato mumbled, and Wataru could see tears begin to come to his eyes. He shook his head, and his hands came up to his head and began to scratch. “Oh fuck, I fucked up, I really really fucked up, I'm sorry, I—”

“Hey!” Wataru said, putting his hands on Minato's shoulders. Minato stopped in his tracks. “Take it easy. Just breathe for a second. Are you okay? Seems like you went somewhere pretty bad there for a while.”

When Minato's eyes looked up at Wataru, they looked horribly vulnerable coming from the gregarious Minato. “I... yeah, um, I think so...” Minato looked away. “I'm—I'm really sorry, I...”

“It's okay,” Wataru said. He patted Minato's shoulder. “You should go get some sleep yourself. You've had a long day, right? It's cool.” He told me that at this point he stifled a joke about first dates, as it seemed far less appropriate at this moment than with Park. “Take it easy. If you need to talk about it, come get me.” He smiled.

After a moment's silence, during which I'm sure he blushed at least a little, Minato said, “Um, yeah sure okay, thank you so much, I'm sorry, uhhh, bye, I'm sorry, bye!”, opened the door, and ran away, tears probably beginning to run further down his face.

With a heavy breath from his mouth, Wataru shook his head and looked up at the room's lights, audibly wondering, “What is it about me?”

* * *

My pride kept me from leaving the dining room until people were already beginning to leave, so I'd had to reheat it, but nevertheless, I carried the thirteenth bowl of nikujaga on a tray through the atrium over to Kenichiro's room. My glasses kept getting fogged up by the steam.

I'd opted to do this alone for my own sake, but being alone carried with it a certain cold nervousness as I reached my hand out to knock on Kenichiro's door. There was always a little tune he knocked to before we'd been separated, so I did so just to show that it was me.

...But I called out anyway. “Kenichiro?” I said. “It's Yuki... I have your dinner.” My hands trembled on the tray, but I reached the hand that knocked down to my sword to steady myself.

A few silent moments of waiting later, I saw the doorknob begin to twist. My heart leapt in my chest, even though I knew full well that it was just Kenichiro—and lo and behold, it was just Kenichiro. “Hey, kiddo,” he said. By the look of him, I doubted he'd moved much all of today. He cracked the door at first, but then opened it, and the clothes he wore were horribly wrinkled from hours of sedentary living—not to mention the tension in his muscles. “What've you got?”

“Nikujaga,” I said. “I made it.”

“You can cook?” Kenichiro asked.

That got me to huff and return a little to my roll. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?! What, did you think I ordered takeout every day for the past four years?”

“Geez, sorry,” Kenichiro laughed. Then, though, his eyes darted down to the sword at my hip, and grew wide. He took a step back. “Oh, shit, is that it?”

I nodded proudly, smiling. “Yes! I finally have it back. May I come in?”

Kenichiro's room was actually a fair amount cleaner than I knew him to keep his office when I was a child. Several messy file folders sat on an unorganized desk in the corner of the room to my left. He kept his fishing rod hung up on the far wall by the door to the outside. A standard Zephyr-Lily TV sat next to his collection of old American action movie DVDs (he was very fond of Tom Cruise, though I heard him once ramble about the degradation of the _Mission Impossible_ franchise as it went, as well as some kind of controversy relating to a much later _Top Gun_ film. However, he had a long-standing fondness above all else for the filmography of Arnold Schwarzeneggar and David Hasselhoff—he cited Schwarzeneggar's _Last Action Hero_ as one of his favorite movies to turn his brain off to.)

Several posters sat on the back of the wall behind his bed. Some in that set, but also a number related to old video games that had been part of Kenichiro's childhood—and in fact, on the shelves next to his messy action movie DVDs were a number of old video games still kept in their cases. A gray machine with a connected controller sat by the TV, and I gasped when I realized—“Is that a _Playstation_?”

“Very first one,” Kenichiro grinned. He tapped a little sticker on it of the protagonist of _Final Fantasy VII_'s sword. “It's my old one.” He leaned toward it with a nostalgic grin. “This little guy broke all the way back in 2011, you know. The ones after that could still play the games until the fourth one came out, but it wasn't the same. I just about cried when I first saw it, but hey, I'm a big boy. Those posters, too, they're ones I used to have.”

I, personally, was looking through Kenichiro's games. He'd mentioned a few of these, and we'd played some of them together in later rereleases, but there were ones here I'd never even heard of except in passing. _Parappa the Rapper_, _Einhander_, _R-Type Delta_, _Tokimeki Memorial_... “Isn't this a romance game?” I asked.

“What, I can't do the sensitive dating thing?” Kenichiro snorted. “I'll have you know I _did_ date my high school sweetheart, sweetheart. Ignore the breakup and it's true to real life!” He laughed a self-deprecating laugh, and I flicked him in the forehead. “Ow!”

“Don't bully yourself,” I said.

Somehow or another, the two of us wound up playing _Marvel vs. Capcom_ for a while. He was very fond of Venom, a villain from the Spider-Man series, generally picking him as his first character. I, personally, picked a character I wasn't familiar with named 'Strider Hiryu', who Kenichiro explained was the protagonist of a series of side-scrolling action games about taking down a fascist dictator. “Good choice,” Kenichiro said, nodding proudly.

He was less happy when I proceeded to pick up the controls fairly quickly and destroy him for several games in a row. “Wha—” He sputtered, shaking his head. “No, that's impossible. Are you cheating? You're reading my inputs with your superpowers, aren't you?!”

“How fast do you think my processing speed as a person is?” I shot back, snorting. “Even if I do know exactly which buttons you're pressing, my processing speed of that information would just allow me to mimic it exactly, not respond properly—”

“Quit bragging,” Kenichiro commanded, but I stuck my tongue out at him and proceeded to demolish him one more time. He gritted his teeth and shouted, “Okay, that's it, I have to nerf you! Strider's too strong!” before taking my controller on the character select screen and inputting a particular code to unlock a character I hadn't realized was present—Megaman's little sister Roll. Despite my protests, I was now playing with Roll as both of my characters. “See you win now! Roll's the worst!”

“Hey!” I whined, before huffing my cheeks and grabbing my controller. I glared very fervently at the screen. Sure enough, she was kind of bad, but not so bad, it turned out, that I couldn't defeat Kenichiro with his amateur skill level (not to mention I actually rather liked her theme song.) When I proceeded to win in a best-of-three against him, Kenichiro dropped his controller on the ground, crouched on the floor, and began to audibly weep. “Ha! In your face, old man!”

“My charge... besting me...” Kenichiro sobbed. “No!” He pounded the floor. “How?!” He looked up at me, tears in his eyes. “By the way, the stew was delicious!”

“Thank you,” I said, my hands on my hips, grinning smugly at him. “There are leftovers if you'd like. Zenji and I cut the potatoes, too, you know.”

“You been bonding?” Kenichiro wept from the floor. “Real proud of you, kid! Good on you!”

Eventually, the two of us sat down on the bed again, sitting down with a movie called _Kindergarten Cop_. I explained to Kenichiro what I'd gone through today. He looked visibly relieved at my having resolved the issue of my name, for one thing. Honestly, most of what I had to say was largely good—having become friends with Anzu properly, for one thing, and having found my sword. Then, though, we reached the topic of what we found at the house.

“Geez,” Kenichiro said, his chin slumping into his hands. “I tell you, some people just shouldn't be having kids. You okay, kiddo?”

“I'm alright,” I said. “I did nearly pass out when we got home, but I'll be alright to go tomorrow—”

“Like hell,” Kenichiro said. He put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me closer. “You need to take a day off. You work yourself too damn hard, especially with Little Red breathing down your neck.”

“L-Little Red?” I blinked.

“The shorter of the two reds,” Kenichiro said, grimacing. “That's not the point. I bet she expects you to just know everything already?” After a moment, I reluctantly nodded. “I bet you've got a decent idea of who the perp is already, too, right?” I nodded again. “Just let other people do some work for a bit, kid. I mean—”

“Well, I think she understands that I can't really say everything I know for a decent reason, though I guess I'm not entirely sure that she _really_ gets it but at the very least we're decent friends who've worked together well and I'm glad about that at least?” I yelped, before taking a deep breath for the massive amount of air I'd just sacrificed.

There was a pause.

“Yuki,” Kenichiro said, his voice lower. “You're not built for this much heavy activity, especially not in a situation where you're gonna get thrown up against things your brain can hardly process.”

“I'm not twelve anymore, Kenichiro,” I said. “I've done manual labor!”

“I _know_, but for god's sake—” Kenichiro shook his head, and sighed. “—you pass out twice in four days, what else am I supposed to think? The weakest kid I knew spends three years living as a princess during a primary formative time of puberty and expects me to think that a bit of independent living is going to make them strong enough to fight monsters for days in a row? I know you're tougher now, but not _that_ much tougher, and it's not even really about your body. Yuki—”

I couldn't meet his gaze as he continued. “I just don't want you to shut down again. Get overloaded. I thought... I hoped we'd made it past that.”

“What?” I raised my head.

“You don't remember?” Kenichiro asked. “That last year, you didn't do that once.”

I took a moment to consider this. I ran through, in my memory, all the memories I had of the last year I spent with Kenichiro. It was, and I can say this with no caveats, probably the happiest time of my life up til now. I sighed. “...I want to go because I feel like I owe it to them,” I said, after quite a long pause in the conversation. “And there are people here I trust to help me. Really. I'll keep myself safe, Kenichiro.”

Kenichiro sighed and shrugged. “If you run into those monsters again, you leave the fighting to someone else.” He wagged his finger. “Got it? No heroics.”

“Right,” I said. “Though, my landlord once instructed me—”

“I don't care,” Kenichiro said, “I'd prefer you alive than dead and heroic.” He smirked. “You come home passed out again, I'm grounding you.”

“It's okay,” I said, smiling. “You won't have to. I... I think I can trust a lot of these people. We'll make it, together.”

Kenichiro scoffed. “Shit. Listen to you, making a friendship speech. What happened to my cute little charge and their literally two friends?”

“Shut up!” I whined, pushing Kenichiro in the arm.

—Looking back on it now, I think part of me wished that Kenichiro would've been sterner about it., that he would've held me back out of concern for my safety, not taken 'no' for an answer. But at the same time, I held a sort of determination that prevented me from staying still. There was a lot at stake, including the fates of people I held dear. I couldn't just stand still, no matter if I wanted to or not.

So, I looked over at him then, and smiled—and my happiness, too, was genuine. “Thank you, Kenichiro. I'll make you proud. I swear.”

“You don't gotta do much to make me proud,” Kenichiro said, rolling his eyes. “All I did today was sit inside and get nostalgic about _Final Fantasy VII_.” He looked toward his Playstation again. “Ahh... I remember when I was younger I thought Barret was the coolest, you know. Fuck the government, right? Man, the guy became an oil baron, though, that did not age well—”

“But I'm still going to do it,” I said. “I'm going to go out there and do... good. That's...” I trailed off for a moment. “That's what I learned from you. How to do good, I mean.”

There was another, long moment of silence.

“Yuki?” Kenichiro asked.

“Yes?” I said.

“Thanks,” Kenichiro said. “Knock 'em dead out there tomorrow.”

“I will,” I said, and idly looked over my shoulder at a poster.

_She_ was sitting there on the bed. I froze.

She winked at me, and mouthed, 'It's a date'.

“Something wrong, kiddo?” Kenichiro asked, putting his hand on my shoulder. “The wall that interesting?”

“Uh, no, it's nothing,” I said, and turned back to continue watching the movie.


	23. Nameless Samurai, 8 ~ It's A Date

“Haaaah—...—hugh, haaaaah—ghrk—! Gah!” Heavy, panting breathing, as droplets of sweat fell onto the seat of the toilet. “Fuh… nngh…”

As Park slapped his arms onto the sink counter, his debilitated movements turned the knob and caused cold water to splash onto his hand. Given the flushed sensitivity of his skin at the moment, it came as a very immediate shock that actually allowed him to stand up slightly faster, no matter how wobbly his legs were at the moment.

Once he’d stood up and flushed the toilet of his vomit, he took a small cup and filled it with the running water, slamming its full capacity down his throat around four times before he let himself breathe. “Oh, today isn’t going to be a good day,” he croaked out, his throat sore and raspy from the ordeal it had just been put through. He’d gotten, say, maybe three hours of sleep (exact words).

“...Please… don’t look at me like that.”

Park turned his head to the foot of his bed, outside his bathroom. There sat a black rabbit with crimson-red eyes, its eyes wide with curiosity. “I don’t know what you’re—gg, ugh, expecting, little one,” Park said, stumbling his way out toward his bed. The rabbit hopped up into his bed with him, and sat by him when he’d slumped over, leaning its nose over in apparent sympathy. “Oh, don’t waste your time on one like me… really. I’m sure you have better things to be doing…”

There was a pause.

“Who am I kidding,” Park said. He groaned. “I’m in virtual reality. You obviously don’t. You’re probably some sort of manifestation of someone or another’s consciousness that’s taken pity on me. Right? Perhaps you’re some part of, say… Minato? Or Ms. Duke?”

The rabbit didn’t respond. “Right, right. You’re a rabbit, you can’t speak,” Park said, running his hands through his hair. “My apologies.” He sighed, and sat properly back up to face the rabbit. “Still… you do seem to have taken a vested interest in me.” He chuckled, and reached over to pat it a little. It didn’t run away. “To think you really are something I’m seeing… or, well, perhaps not ‘really’... oh, this is confusing.”

—This wasn’t the first time Park had met the black rabbit, you see. It had appeared to him twice before. Once, on our first day, it had led him out of his room to go to meet Anzu, and on the third day—

“I don’t think I ever thanked you,” Park said. “If it hadn’t been for you… oh, surely I would’ve been gravely injured, or worse.”

—he’d followed it when he spotted it, and following its directions had saved him from Wataru’s beast’s attack. It had disappeared just after, but without it… well, Park would rather not think about that.

“To think, I would be following a rabbit down the rabbit hole… I feel like a young maiden!” Park laughed to himself, but then shook his head. “Ah, but no. The time for those sorts of flights of fancy are long gone… there are multiple young women here, you know. Have you considered chasing Ms. Duke, instead? Er, that is to say, I know I’m fairly certain I heard mention of her being thirty-six, but that’s really not that old, and why on Earth is she so secretive about that, anyhow, but she really seems more apropos to...”

The rabbit gazed impassively. Park sighed again, shrugging his shoulders. “I can’t get you to leave me alone, can I?” He smiled, and shook his head. “Ah, well… I suppose it’s not all bad. Say… what do you think about this whole Yuki business?”

Twitch. “Yes, I think it’s rather odd, myself, upon thinking about it… if it was simply a question of her family, why would she suddenly act completely differently upon using that different name? I imagine it’s not fully my business, but to be sure, I have a notion that it might, in fact, be rather cryptic. Do you think, maybe, I...? Hm…” Park put his hand up to his chin. “Well, it may not be my business, but neither was the incident with Wataru’s sister… and to be sure, my issues aren’t much of anyone else’s business usually, either… hm.”

With a heavy exhalation, Park stood up, the brightness of the morning sun filtering in through his blinds into his eyes until he put his cap on. “You’re right,” he said, looking down and smiling at the black rabbit. “She’s my biggest fan! Er, that I know of. I should probably try my best… hoo. Okay.”

Standing in front of his door, Park took a deep breath, and then started pumping his arms up and down. He did a single jumping jack, and then gave up on that. “Alright! Jong-ki Park advances today! Let’s try to be optimistic!”

* * *

When I entered the dining room for the morning’s discussion, I got a few odd looks. “An expository costume change?” Juri asked, leaning back in her seat, looking dangerously close to tipping over.

“Is it that odd?” I asked. Frankly, the ornate dress of my Mai persona was less in my usual style. Having the leeway to just throw on a green hoodie and blue jeans today was downright liberating. “...And a fine good morning to yourself, as well, Juri.”

Roll call. I had just arrived. As usual, Tsukihi was at the head of the table, and Juri had just spoken up. Anzu was fiddling with some sort of fidget toy, which Ryo seemed a little transfixed by. Wataru’s head was on the table, catching up on the very last dregs of recovery sleep that he needed. Saori was reading one of her academic texts, and Zenji appeared to be staring over her shoulder, desperately trying to make out any of the arcane language they used (he was failing). Zoe and Bella were over at the kitchen, working on something or another—to be honest, I had very little faith in Bella’s culinary ability, and dearly hoped Zoe could make something work.

So, Park, Minato, and Kenichiro were missing. Wataru apparently noticed my scan, and said, “Minato had a bit of an episode last night, so he’s probably not gonna show.”

“Oh?” I asked. Wataru gave me a ‘no, I’m not going to _tell_ you about it’ look, and I nodded and sat down. I was, admittedly, a touch disappointed to see Kenichiro wasn’t present this morning, either, but then—

The door opened wide just behind me, and Kenichiro walked in, slamming down a bottle on the table in front of me. The room went quiet. “Um… g-good morning?” I said.

“It’s sunscreen,” Kenichiro said. “You left your room open, so I went and found it.”

“You wh—” I sputtered. “My _room_—?!”

Kenichiro looked up at the rest of the table. “Hi. This idiot is sensitive to prolonged sunlight. If they’d been _applying their damn sunscreen_ like they’re _supposed_ to, maybe they’d be having fewer issues.”

“K-Kenichiro—!”

The instant he said that, Anzu and Zoe both put their head in their hands and groaned. Bella gave me a disappointed sigh. Tsukihi placed two fingers directly in the center of her forehead, and sighed. “See, Yuki?” Kenichiro turned his head to me. “See what happens?”

“I see,” Tsukihi said. The aura of disappointment on her was so palpable it made me feel like I was going to be crushed into the ground. “I will make sure Yuki takes care of themself properly in the future.”

Juri gave me an unimpressed frown. “Yeah, Yuki. What if we wind up having to fight an Immortal? Your health would start draining during the Pile Driver, you definitely couldn’t make it.” She shook her head. “I should’ve known a Moon Beauty when I saw one…” By the look on his face, Kenichiro understood this reference, and I wished dearly he would explain it to me.

With that said, Kenichiro turned on his heel to leave. “Okay, later.”

“You’re leaving already?” I said, my eyes wide, leaning into the table.

“That really that surprising?” Kenichiro asked, not turning around. “Have a good day at school, kiddo.” He snorted, raised his hand in a casual goodbye, and left the room.

“Truly, the most reliable of fathers,” Tsukihi said, averting her eyes and scrunching her nose just a touch. That didn’t last long, though, as she turned her head to me to glare at me. “You’ve been letting a chronic condition get the better of you for four days now?”

I didn’t have any defense to that, so all I could really do was wail. “I was hoping I could get by without it,” I said. “I, um…”

At some point or another, Zoe had come over, having grabbed the bottle of sunscreen. “Let me guess,” she said, and if you were there to see how withering her gaze was, you would understand true fear. “You wanted to come across like you could do things ‘normally’ without needing assistance, right? Big, strong Yuki doesn’t need any assistance in their day to day life, hm?”

I leaned further and further back in my seat, and was aware that Saori was looking over, probably rather impressed by how far I could lean back without falling over. “Um. Yes?”

“I see,” Zoe said, and my stomach curled in onto itself. “Hoodie off.”

“W-what,” I said.

“Hoodie off. I’ll do you the service of assuming you won’t take your pants off outside,” Zoe said. There was a pause. “Today, Yuki. Would you prefer we leave the room?”

I did. I felt absurdly underdressed in just the black bra and tank top I had on underneath my hoodie, even when it was just Zoe looking at me. I’d long since gotten used to how cold the sunscreen was when it was first applied, but Zoe’s hands, on the other hand, were very new and novel. And… cold. Her body temperature was overall rather low. I shivered under her touch as we sat by the fountain.

“It’s alright,” Zoe said, and she was smiling. “I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

“Um, thank you,” I said, even though my cheeks were bright red with embarrassment, especially as she reached her hands up to start applying on my face. “Ggghhh…”

I’d always had rather puffy cheeks, even as a child, and I’d become sensitive to people touching them because of adults pinching them. Zoe was gentle, but that didn’t mean I didn’t uncontrollably wiggle my arms as she applied the sunscreen to keep from lashing out at her. Frankly, looking at it from the outside, I’m sure me letting out a high-pitched whine, scrunching up my face and puffing out my cheeks, was probably rather cute.

(I was, and am, rather thin in build in most places, and so my biological parents assumed my cheeks were likely a symptom of ‘puppy fat’. This was not the case. While I have become a healthier shape these days, at the age of twenty-four I am still decidedly thin aside from certain awkwardnesses, which include, but are not limited to, my cheeks. Human biology is painful and complicated, and it is a subject that I wish I had had to learn less about growing up.)

“I’m, uh, glad you’re doing better,” I said, once she’d thankfully finished on my face. She tilted her head. “Well, you seemed to be having some trouble the other night.”

“At this rate, I’m sure the time will come when I don’t have a choice,” Zoe replied, “but until then I’d rather not let my particular damage harm the group more than it already has.” Her smile twitched. “I’d be an embarrassment to my profession, if that happened.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” I said. I shook my head. “Though… er, I suppose I don’t really have enough insight to say.”

“Take my word for it,” Zoe said. She then washed her hands, then began to apply sunscreen to herself. “He makes a solid point. I should consider that, too. If your sensitivity to sunlight still applies here, then it’s entirely possible I might get sunburnt.”

“Eh?” I blinked. “Are you going?”

“I have a bad feeling,” Zoe said. Having long since learned how powerful her bad feelings were, I had no further comment.

* * *

Once we returned to the dining room, it wasn’t long after we sat down that something slightly unexpected happened. Phanuel poofed into existence on the center of the table, their eyes dark beneath their bangs. “Howdy?” Bella blinked.

“I don’t like to abuse my power,” Phanuel said, balling their little fists tightly, “but you have all left me no choice. I can’t stand for this any longer. No more, you hear me? No more!”

There was a pause.

“What?” Tsukihi said.

“Tell me something, Tsukihi. How many hours of sleep did you get last night?” Phanuel said.

There was another pause.

“...Three, I’d suppose,” Tsukihi said, looking away.

“That’s a lie. Don’t lie to me, I’m a computer,” Phanuel said, inching closer. “You tried to sleep for three hours, but got up for another hour to start doing piles of paperwork you have left in your room that won’t even be done in the real world. You slept for less than two hours! Barely enough time for a single REM cycle, if that!”

“That’s a problem!” Park grimaced.

“Yeah, she also hasn’t taken a day off since I was nine, what else is new,” Anzu shrugged.

“And _you_ have the same problem!” Phanuel pivoted on their heel, now that Tsukihi was cowed, toward Anzu. “The both of you have an average sleep intake of less than four hours! You’re horribly sleep deprived! You’re going to get yourselves killed!”

“Ohhhh noooo,” Anzu said, rolling her eyes and putting her chin on her fist.

“You both have a serious problem!” Phanuel put their arms on their hips, then swiveled to Juri. “And you! You were up all night watching anime and crying!”

“Wha,” Juri said, her glasses drooping. “Huhwha. Wha? Boop boop?”

“And _you_ were up until well into the night,” Phanuel said to Bella, who squawked, “looking at yourself in the mirror and crying!”

“Aw, shucks, was it that obvious?!” Bella yelled.

“Wait, what?” Wataru blinked. “Can we go back to—”

“And what is your proposed solution, o holy angel?” Anzu snorted.

There was a slight quake as Phanuel balled their fists, and raised their hand into the air. A magic wand appeared in their outstretched hand. “It’s time for me to live up to my family name. Judgment Wand, activate!”

“Ju—?”

Before Anzu could continue, Phanuel had placed a pillow in front of her head and swung their wand at her. Anzu’s eyes immediately shut, and she collapsed onto the pillow, breathing softly. “W-whoa,” I said, staggering back slightly.

“I won’t hesitate to use this,” Phanuel said. They smiled. “After all, this place is based on your cognition, so sleep deprivation could cause detrimental effects. Who’s to say nasty things like those monsters couldn’t become even nastier?”

Tsukihi gritted her teeth. “I suppose you know your own systems better than I do. I swear, though, I get an average of six hours a night—”

“That’s super unhealthy,” Saori said. She gave Tsukihi a glassy stare. “You’re probably not doing very well.”

That caught Tsukihi off guard, and she croaked. Juri was already down for the count. “I’ve gotten used to it, really. An occasional night of less sleep doesn’t bother me.” Tsukihi stood up and stepped back, gritting her teeth and grimacing.

Zenji looked at an invisible camera. “Capitalism, right?”

“And I have research I want to do today, you can’t just—” Tsukihi sputtered. I think this was the first time I’d ever seen her look vulnerable, inching away from the diminutive angel. “I’ll sue!”

“You can sue Nagisa for it, I don’t legally exist,” Phanuel said. “Judgment Wand, activate! Yoom-tah!”

I’d also never seen Tsukihi sleeping before. She slept peacefully. Bella, who’d been hoping Phanuel had forgotten about her, no doubt, was not able to sneak away before Phanuel blasted her, too. Thus did we have four sleeping women in the room, and amazingly, none of them were Saori.

After a moment, Wataru let out a heavy sigh, and said, “Okay, we were using five-person groups, right?” The other six of us nodded. “Yuki. You mind coming along? I’d like someone else—”

“I don’t mind that at all,” I blurted out. It took me a moment to realize I’d interrupted, and I blushed and began twiddling my fingers.

“You’re going?” Saori asked, tilting her head not at me, but at Wataru. “Mm’kay. Be careful.”

“A-ah, I’ll go as well,” Park cut in, standing up from his seat, then awkwardly sitting back down, then standing back up. “Yes, well. Yes.”

“I was intending to go anyhow, today,” Zoe said. “And—” Ryo raised his hand. “Ryo.”

“I want to go,” Ryo said. There were a few noises of surprise from the table.

“Absolutely not!” Zoe said, shaking her head. “We can’t just let you put yourself in danger.”

“Who put you in charge?” Zenji snorted. “The kid’s got a good head on his shoulders.” He looked over at Ryo, and said, “You wanna be there when the clock tower goes off again, right?” Ryo nodded. “Yeah. He wants to go, so let him.”

“As the eldest person here at the moment—” Zoe said.

Zenji raised his hand. “Actually, I’m thirty-three, so I’m two years older than you. I say he gets to go.”

There was a pause as Zoe began to crumple into herself, making small cracking noises. “He’s not lying,” Saori said.

“I _know_ he’s not lying,” Zoe said, frowning deeply. She turned to me and Wataru for support.

“Ryo’s a smart kid, he can keep himself out of danger,” Wataru said. I nodded in agreement.

Having been resoundingly defeated, Zoe slumped onto the table with a heavy sigh. “Alright. Fine. Okay. I’ll just worry myself sick over a child being present when there are monsters around. That’s fine.”

“Um…” Ryo put his hand on his head. “Pennyroyal. I pennyroyal.”

“Okay, cool,” Wataru said, smiling and nodding to Ryo. “That means he’ll be sure to run away if danger pops up.” I turned to look at him, tilting my head. “I didn’t have much else to do yesterday, y’know.”

“I’ll go to the library and take a look at some shit, then,” Zenji said, standing up and rolling his neck with a small cracking noise. “C’mon, Saori.”

“Okeydokey,” Saori said, standing up and imitating his movements. She looked at me again. “Yuki. Take care of Ms. Mapperel.”

“I’ll take very good care of her,” I said.

* * *

Park was the one who took over driving today, so I was in the back with the map once more. When Zoe asked why Wataru didn’t intend to drive, he pulled a camera out from his back pocket.

“It’s hard to describe things, but it’s easy to take photos,” he said, and gave a smile. “Don’t worry. I’ve got the hang of this.”

“I didn’t know you were also a photographer!” Park said. His taste in music was much lighter and poppier than Minato’s - I think the song that stuck out the most to me was the theme song to the anime _Dia Witch Iroha_. “I would think that sort of hobby was a touch incompatible.”

Wataru shook his head. “I just turn my brain off and find myself places.” Ryo smiled up at me and put his hand on my leg, and I returned his smile. “See, it’s—is that the place?”

As we drove, Wataru asked to take photos of the noteworthy locations in the neighborhood area. His skill with the camera was fairly impressive, and I found myself surprised he could take such clean shots of such bizarre situations; in particular, the skeleton mess. He’d brought along an album for them as well, so his shots were well-catalogued. Zoe took off some of the stress by helping him organize them.

“What’s got you so keyed up, Doc?” Wataru asked.

Zoe shook her head. “I've just got a bad feeling.” She wiped some sweat from her brow, and her mouth twitched.

“Personally, I, uh, I have a very bad feeling about, well, about that,” Park said, looking at the skeleton house. Ryo seemed to agree with him.

Then—

—we stepped over the boundary, into the city.

As soon as we stepped out of the neighborhood, not only did the pavement of the street change, but so too did the _sounds_. The relative silence of the neighborhood gave way to a rustling hum, the sounds of passersby even when there were none, the sound of a faraway train beneath our feet. The sun hung high at 2 P.M., and the scent of the area changed, too, a mixture of asphalt, uncertain food, simply the smell of _commerce_.

“Okay,” I said, “if the last area is any indication, there’s a spatial distortion here that will prevent us from moving on until we’ve seen what we needed to see. The red and blue beasts might still be present somehow, too—watch out, everyone.”

“Of course!” Park puffed his chest up, and stepped forward. “Everyone, behind me! I’ll protect—er, Wataru, y-you wouldn’t try to punch them again, would you?”

Wataru shrugged. “Depends on the situation.”

The five of us began to drive down the street, taking looks at the buildings beside us as well. The procedural generation was in full effect here, creating buildings that didn’t really quite make logistical sense (that one had far too many elevators,) but this area was different, as well—occasionally, there was a building in the mix that looked perfectly normal. A game store, a grocery store, a pharmacy… I couldn’t quite make out a pattern, myself, but I did my best to map it out.

The sound of the train continued to rumble beneath us as we drove, idly chatting as we went. Wataru took as many pictures as he could justify. Eventually, we found ourselves getting much closer to the central clock tower, and drove into a central plaza around it, with a six-way intersection leading out. As soon as I noted that,

The jeep’s engine gave out.

“Wha—” Wataru grunted, and tried the keys again. “Damn. This thing can give out? We’re in virtual reality!”

“That’s unfortunate,” Zoe said, raising her eyebrow. “We’ll have to do some exploring by foot—can you repair it?”

“Yeah, I’ll just have to see if there’s anything actually wrong,” Wataru said. He sighed, and put his head in his hands. “Or it could be weird brain rules or something.”

So, we vacated the jeep. We stood together as Wataru opened up the trunk. “Okay, uh… not looking like much… Doc, give me a second opinion?”

Park, Ryo, and I were left to our own devices. “Alright,” Park said, puffing himself up, “a location like this surely has some significance. Do you—” The train was very loud. “—you two want to give it a survey?” Ryo nodded, and I did, too. “Lovely! Let’s continue!”

This seemed to greatly resemble some actual physical location—one I actually found vaguely familiar, though I wasn’t sure from where. The establishments here were definitely real; we passed a realtor’s, an insurance agency, a pizza parlor, a store for anime merchandise… Ryo looked curiously in that one’s window, and I couldn’t help but giggle. Park began to lecture him on a few of the items in the store’s display. I sent my gaze across to the next street, and saw

her

on one of the nearby streets. “Eh…?”

She gestured me forward, with a little wave of her index finger. “C’mon,” she said. “I said it was a date, right?”

“Oh, well…” I stepped forward. “Yes, but… um, I thought—”

I was there in the alley with her, away from them, and she wrapped her arms around my arm. “Come on, Yamada-_san_. We hardly ever get to go out like this. The sun’s going to set if we wait too long!”

“Mai—” I sputtered.

Mai giggled, and began to pull me forward. I couldn’t help but find it slightly charming how forceful she was being here… I knew she wanted to go outside a bit more, but this was ridiculous.

Soon, our strides became normal, taking in the sights and smells of the passersby. I kept my hand on my sword just in case, but nobody seemed particularly interested in picking a fight. She began to speak to me about nothing in particular, and I did my best to follow along.

We sat down at a roadside takoyaki stand. “I’ve never had these before!” Mai exclaimed.

“Haha, really?” I asked. “Back when I was living with my biological parents, we stopped in places like this a few times—don’t worry, I know how to eat them.”

The man running the stand came forward with a great big smile, his arms tense with the muscle of manual labor. “And what can I get you two lovely ladies?”

“A regular order for the both of us, please,” I said. I smiled back. “Nothing special.”

“Coming right up!” he responded. His hands moved with the speed of someone who’d been in the business for years.

“Yamada-_san_, you’re so learned!” Mai said, clapping her hands. “Mother wouldn’t—”

“Mom loves takoyaki, actually,” I said, and Mai’s eyes grew wide. “Really. I’ve seen her and Eikichi get it at the store a few times.”

Our trays, filled with glistening orbs of fried octopus, were placed in front of us, and Mai took a bite of hers before immediately recoiling. “A-aaaah! Hot! Hot!”

I laughed. “Yes, they are pretty hot when they first come out.”

“Uwaaaah…” Mai whined. “You could’ve warned me!”

“They’re steaming, Mai,” I said.

Mai huffed, and puffed out her cheeks. “You still could’ve warned me.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. I was still laughing.

We wound up walking about a bit more, poking our heads in at a sundry clothing store where Mai pointed out a dress she thought I would look amazing in. I politely declined, though, as dresses aren’t really my style, usually. We wavered to and fro among the streets, until we found ourselves at the side of a streetcar tram.

“Oh, Yamada-_san_!” Mai exclaimed. “Let’s ride the tram!”

There was no fee to ride this tram, so the two of us got on, sitting right next to each other. Mai cuddled close to me, and I laughed. “What’s with all the affection all of a sudden?”

“I’ve just felt lonely,” Mai said. She frowned. “You haven’t been around at the house lately…”

“Oh, well… yes, that’s true,” I said, and I couldn’t help but feel a slight crackling in my brain. I shook my head, though, and it cleared. “I’m sorry… it’s just that—”

“**Yuki!**”

“...eh?”

I blinked, and shook my head. Mai was standing up to the right of me, and to the left, by the tram’s entrance, was… “Ryo?” Mai said.

From the panting and sweat, Ryo was a bit worn out from running. His bushy bangs were covering his eyes somewhat, but I could tell he was glowering, his small frame readying for something or another. “G-get away,” he said, swinging his hand away and inching closer to me.

“Huh?” I muttered.

Mai blinked, and steepled her hands. “Ryo, what’s wrong? Why are you… looking at me like—”

Ryo stomped his foot, and stood in front of me protectively, throwing his arms wide. “You aren’t Hitori! Get away from Yuki!”

“Ryo…” Mai’s gaze sunk to the floor of the tram, her brows furrowing, her eyes glistening with the beginning of tears. “Ryo, how could you say that? I… Yamada-_san_ and I are meant to be toge—”

“_Get away from Yuki!_” Ryo bellowed.

Mai began to step forward,

and the tram began to move along its tracks,

a rumbling under it causing my whole body to vibrate with it.

“I don’t know what you think is going on,” Mai said, her gaze switching from sorrow to a stern scolding, “but it’s rude to get involved in other people’s affairs, Ryo, no matter how much you love them. Yuki wants me here. Don’t you, Yuki?”

“I—”

“You… shouldn’t be here,” Ryo said. “You… black rose!” The way he spat that last part, his fists balled, struck me. I’d never seen that sort of emotion on Ryo before.

“It’s been _seven years_,” Mai said. Was that a scoff under her breath? “Isn’t it a bit presumptuous to assume you know what’s best for someone when you haven’t seen them in that long?”

Ryo grimaced, and briefly faltered. But then—

A black rabbit leapt into the tram cart, too. “Eh?” Mai blinked. “Who’s this supposed to be?” Then—

“W-where are you goiiiiiing?!”

With surprising agility, Park leapt into the tram, though he did have to pull himself a little bit over the railing. He rolled into the tram, panting and wheezing, just as it became too fast on its tracks to get onto safely. He staggered onto his hands, and then onto his feet, standing in front of Ryo, myself, and the black rabbit. “I don’t… know what’s going on,” Park said, his breath heavy, “but Ryo, please don’t run off like that!”

At the sight of Park, Mai’s expression changed again. She _sneered_. “Who are you supposed to be, again?”

“I could… haaah, ask you the same question! Miss!” Park said, stepping back and taking up a defensive stance. At this point, he produced a baton he’d taken from the mansion for self-defense. “It seems to me like you’re aggressing against my friends! I should like you to not do that, please!”

Mai sighed, closed her eyes, and shook her head. “I don’t know you, and I certainly don’t need you here. This ride is for me and Yuki _alone_.” And then—she produced a _blade_, a shining white blade wrapped in ornamental decoration, so clear it almost seemed like glass. “People like you don’t need to stick your heads in.”

“T-take your best shot?!” Park squeaked, quivering slightly,

and around the tram, with an orange glow,

it almost looked as though the world had been lit aflame,

on this chariot bound for who knew where.


	24. Nameless Samurai, 9 ~ Glass Thorns

“I'm _immediately regretting that statement!_” Park wailed, as his baton clashed against Mai's blade. Though Park was a grown man and Mai was not exactly a tough woman, the superior weapon here was obvious—not to mention Park was by no means a trained combatant.

Mai, on the other hand, swung her blade cleanly through the air as though it were an extension of her own body. I tended to wield my own blade two-handed, as was standard, but her style—and her blade—were one-handed, swinging with a lighter ease that didn't require so much strength behind it. She didn't need it, either. Her cold, glassy gaze didn't falter for even an instant as her opponent sweated and gasped under her offense.

“W-who are you?!” Park asked. No response. “Please?! I should at least like to know the name of the person who may very well murder meeeeeEEEE?!” His voice pitched up into a squeak as he thrust forward with his baton. This tram was not particularly wide, but Mai's slim frame made it child's play for her to saunter past his strike on her own time.

Ryo, who was standing frozen in front of me, cocked his head to the side, and ran over to the side of the tram. “_Wataru! Zoe!_”

His shout got me to look up myself, and I noticed the jeep—in working condition, apparently—driving beside the tram's tracks. The deathly serious expression on Wataru's face behind the steering wheel was a new one for me. I found it rather cool. Zoe, on the other hand, was twitching up a storm, her visage the absolute opposite of cool. “Ryo! Is there a way to stop the tram?!”

Ryo looked around, his eyes darting around Park's tiny weapon barely managing to stop a sideswipe from his opponent. His eyes landed on a point behind Mai; a heavy lever sat at the back of the tram. “Might be!” he called back.

I could hardly hear Zoe click her tongue over the sound of the tram's motion. “Get Yuki up! Motivate them _somehow_! Park isn't going to make it!”

“Why isn't she helping to begin with?!” Wataru shouted at Zoe.

“I don't _know_!” Zoe said back, her arms flailing. “It's probably something about that girl! I—how am I supposed to know?!” She shook her head. “Ryo! You can do it, right?! I know you can!” Ryo started to breathe heavier.

“What are we talking abouuuu, uuuu, uuuuttttt?!” Park was beginning to get the hang of his baton, and caught Mai's blade in an attack and managed to spin her around and briefly disable her before she wrenched loose. “Okay! This is working!”

Of course, she pivoted off of that into a swing right toward his side, which he dodged so closely that I saw a tear in his jacket. He gritted in pain, too. “You're wheezing,” Mai said, and that was certainly true. She cocked her eyebrow at him, and said, “Nobody would blame you if you gave up and let go.”

I don't know if she saw it, but I could see that that struck a nerve in Park. A vein in his temple throbbed for a second, and he gritted his teeth and scrunched up his nose in a way completely different to any pain. “That's... that's not true,” he said. “I... _I_ would blame me!”

Smirk. “I know.”

“Eh?” Park's eyes widened. That little outburst of his had let Mai casually walk into his blind spot, and bash him directly in the small of his back. He let out a wail of pain, and staggered forward, his body landing on the side of the tram, draping his arms over the side. With a little giggle, Mai raised her foot up and kicked him in the same position, levying her force to keep him stuck against the wall under her foot. “Gh—?!”

“_**Park!**_” Wataru shouted.

“Y-Yuki!” Ryo shouted, shaken from his fear. He turned to me and put his hands on my shoulders. “Yuki, Yuki! Park! Park! Danger!”

I blinked. “Huh?”

—To be certain, my eyes registered Mai having pinned Park, whose body was sliding down the wall of the tram to be laid on the floor beneath Mai's feet. They registered the serene, yet almost _sadistic_, smile that Mai wore, her whole countenance sparkling in the light. The contrast between the two of them—an ordinary man and a girl who looked almost like a sculpture—was incredibly striking to me.

And yet—

“Park will _die!_” Ryo shouted, and I'd never heard his little voice be so fearful before. “Help! Please!”

“...huh?” I blinked again, my brain feeling like it was sloughing through molasses. “Uh... but... I-I can't...”

Ryo took a breath in and briefly brought his hands up to his ears to cover them so that he could think. It only took a moment. He reopened his ears, and said, “Can't hurt Mai?”

I nodded slowly. “Uh-huh.”

“Not Mai!” Ryo shook his head, and threw his hand to her. “Gh, uh... M-mandrake! Mandrake! She isn't Mai!”

...Not Mai? “Not... Mai...”

—Ah.

I began to stand up, putting my hand back on the katana. “You... it's _you_!” I gritted my teeth, my brow furrowing. The _thing_ cocked her head toward me, her eyebrow raised curiously. “Get off... Get off of him!”

“Is there a problem, Yamada-_san_?” She asked me. “I'm just—”

“You get out of her _right now_!” I stomped my foot, and drew my sword. “I...I will use this!”

She took a moment, her gaze curious towards the ceiling, before her eyes returned to me. “Oh, so that's it.” The smile on her face was almost a little pitying. My grip on my sword's hilt tightened. Then—

She grinned,

and then her hand came up to her face. She stepped backwards off of Park, groaning. “Ghh... ugh...” She moaned, before looking up to me—and the look on her face had utterly changed, looking fearful, pleading. “Y-Yamada-_san_...”

“Mai!” I threw my hands wide, and reached one out. “Mai! You have to fight it!”

“Yamada-_san_, please, run!” Mai shouted. “I... I need you to run! Hurry!” In the background, I heard Wataru yell at Zoe about how utterly baffled he was. “I can't control her for long...”

“Don't worry, Mai. I'll protect you!” I said, tightening the grip on my sword. “I won't let this thing beat you! Leave it to me.”

“Y-Yamada-_san_...” Mai gripped her head, and then, with a slight jerking, the trembling in her arms stopped, and the thing looked back up at me. “You sound like something out of a self-help booklet, Yamada-_san_. Have you been reading too many of Makiko-_san_'s pamphlets lately?”

“Silence!” I yelled, stepping forward for a heavy overhead swing. I wasn't particularly strong, but I was definitely tougher than her, so she had to put both of her own hands up on her hilt to guard. “I won't let you hurt my friends.”

“Isn't it a bit late for that?” She asked, levying her weight forward and forcing a stalemate so she could leap back and weave around my swing. “Here I thought we were friends, Yamada-_san_.”

“I could never be friends with _you_!” I roared, and went for a horizontal swing to send her backwards.

“You're so rude,” she said, grinning as she took another step back. “This ride was for the two of us and you'd still reject me? I—”

There was a heavy, metallic noise, and I suddenly realized that the rest of the world existed again. So, evidently, did she, as she looked over her shoulder, her eyes wide, to see Park on the lever at the back, having gotten up to push it forward. A screeching noise came from the tracks, and Park heaved out a, “Sorry to interrupt,” leaning on the lever and waving.

The thing looked down at the lever, then back up at Park. There was a silent moment amidst the screeching, even as Ryo ducked and covered his ears. “I don't think I like you very much,” she said.

As the tram slowed, it drove into a tunnel, and as darkness overtook us—

A horrific roar from outside,

and a shout of “_**Watch out!**_” from Wataru

as _something_ struck above,

and suddenly I couldn't see anything anymore.

* * *

I don't know how long I laid there, unconscious, but eventually I coughed and managed to open my eyes. The metal of the tram lay under me, and as I got up, I realized that the small light in the area was coming from a flashlight on the floor, lighting up toward the ceiling.

Park and Ryo both sat by the flashlight, Park cradling Ryo in his arms, and they simultaneously looked over at me. “Yuki!” Ryo cried, his eyes visibly teary, and he leapt out of Park's arms to hug me.

“Oh, thank goodness you're alright,” Park said. He didn't get up, and from how he was moving I could tell he was still nursing that hit to his back.

“Where... what happened?” I rubbed my head with the one of my arms that wasn't stuck in Ryo's hug.

“This is only my best guess,” Park said, “but I would assume, ah, that those monsters appeared, and... broke the top of the tunnel! Haha!” He wasn't smiling. “So we're stuck! Very unfortunate. Deeply. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I...” I rubbed my head. “I think so. Where's—?”

“I don't know,” Park said. “She seems to have vanished, haha. Ah... w-who was that?”

There was a moment of silence.

“Well...” I trailed off. Ryo's hands were reaching up to my hair. “Ryo?”

He stood up and puttered behind me, lifting my hair out of my hoodie. I'd kept it mostly inside my clothes, but he pulled out its full high-back length to look at the skin underneath it. He looked carefully, then let it back down, and it fell against my back. “Okay,” he said.

“I didn't even think about that,” I said. “Thank you, Ryo.” He smiled and giggled.

“O-oh,” Park said, blinking. “Was your hair always that long?” Ryo and I both looked at him and nodded. “Oh, I see.” He looked away and blushed.

“Mr. Park?” I asked. “Is something wrong?”

“J-just Park is fine, really, I swear,” Park said. “Er... the circumstances are a bit poor, but I just wanted to say that I think you actually look very nice with your hair out, then?”

Pause.

“Oh,” I said. I looked away myself. “Um, thank you?”

Another pause.

“It's very fortunate we have the top of the tram to shield us,” Park observed, looking up as he did. “Otherwise, who knows what could've happened? Why, we could've been crushed... haha, why, we could be sitting in a bunker in Osaka, utterly braindead, or... or something like that. I...” He paused. “Hm... how should I take that? Is it a bad thing I was stuck in here, or perhaps was it a good thing that it went so relatively cleanly?”

I blinked. “What?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing,” Park said, chuckling awkwardly and looking away. “Say, er—Ryo?”

Ryo was sitting in the back corner of the tram behind me, now, curled up into a ball. He was staring very intently at a small corner of the wall, but when I went over to look, there wasn't anything there. “What are you focusing on?”

Pause. Ryo had to take a moment. “Centering,” he said. I nodded.

The rubble trapping us in here was far too heavy to move from inside, so we could only hope that Wataru and Zoe would soon arrive. The air in here was almost bizarrely dry. I was used to dry air, but I didn't know if I could say the same about Ryo.

“Thank you,” I said, and since I hadn't turned around, it took Park a moment to realize I was speaking to him, too. “Both of you. I...”

“Er... that white-haired girl,” Park said, looking away, bringing his hand up just beneath his chin. “You were... calling her Mai. Yes?” I nodded. “I thought Mai was you, Yuki.”

“Soon,” I said. Park made a questioning noise. “Wataru and Zoe will probably be here soon. We can talk then.”

“Ah, yes,” Park said. “That made sense.” His voice betrayed his anxiety, but his words did so just a moment later. “Um... h-how can you be—?”

“They'll be here soon,” I said.

“Okay,” Park responded, and we fell into silence again.

There were a few moments that the rubble shifted, but nothing major. We continued sitting in the dark, hopeful that the flashlight's batteries would not run out. The air was thin.

_A flash of light, and a shifting of weight. My body was no longer being choked... and I felt arms. Heavy, strong arms around my frail form._

_ My glasses were broken, so I couldn't make out the man's appearance, his features, his clothes... All I could see were his movements, the way he twitched and sweated, the worry evident in his face. “Hey—hey, kid! Stay with me! C'mon, up you go, let's go!”_

_ A painful cough exited my lungs. I could tell I was crying, but the tears seemed to be being dried up even as I cried them. “Ah... ugh...”_

_ All around me, my brain was swirling. So many people had been in that room, and they'd all... everything hurt. Everything in my mind hurt. So many people had been erased. It was the first time I'd ever seen dead bodies, and understood something—_

_ Dead bodies are not people. They are objects. My mind, my **power**, understood this. The moment a body ceased to function, it was irrelevant. I could no longer see it as I could anything else. Its shape was as blurry as any other object._

_ People, those bundles of movements and life, fell and vanished. The room became empty, emptier, yet emptier. My parents fell and vanished. They would never come back._

_ “Hey... hey, come on, come on!” The man cried. “Come on! Stay with me! You lived this long, you can't just die now!”_

_ But this man was still here. And he was carrying me, and speaking. I coughed again. The headache worsened. _

_ “Okay, uh, shit...” He spat. “Kid, okay... t-tell me. What's your name? Tell me your name. Come on.” What...? I could hardly believe what I was hearing. “Come on, you have to stay with me. What is your name?”_

_ “Sawamura...” I hacked out. “Hitori... Sawamura.”_

_ “Okay.” I could tell the man smiled. “Good job, Hitori. You're doing great. You're in school, right? What grade?”_

_ “F-fourth grade,” I said, doing my best to catch my breath. He was keeping me low, to avoid the smoke. “My... my parents...”_

_ “I'm sure they're gonna be fine,” the man said. “They're—”_

_ “Dead,” I said, and he stopped. “My parents... died.” Then, I could tell he flinched, a bit of sadness coming to his grip. “Am I... dead, too?”_

_ “Like hell,” the man said. I could tell he was gritting his teeth. “You're not dying on me. Hang on... we're gonna get you out of here.” Then, he pulled out... a phone, and dialed a number with his open hand. “Fuck, pick up... S-s-seven, seven, kilo, india, hotel, tango! Are you listening to me?! **This kid is going to fucking die if you don't—!**”_

A crack in the rubble, and a flash of light. “Park! Yuki, Ryo!” That was Wataru's voice, and I could tell he was straining his throat from all the shouting. “Say something!”

“W-Wataru?” Park sputtered, as a slight bit of fresher air filled my lungs. “Wataru! Wataru, we're over here!”

“Zoe!” Wataru called. “They're over here!”

It wasn't long before the flash of light widened to become a hole, through which I could see Wataru, his brow soaked in sweat, his breath heavy. Zoe was just behind him, assisting in moving the rubble. “Hurry through once you can,” Wataru said, now that he could see us. “I don't know how long it's gonna hold!”

Ryo went through first, then me, then Park. Park tumbled out, rolling onto... I blinked and realized they'd set up an air mattress in front. “In case of emergency,” Zoe said, her face twitching up a storm. “I—”

Once we were all out, before I knew it, Wataru had wrapped all three of us in a hug. It was a bit awkwardly angled, given our different heights, but it was nonetheless a hug. I could feel a bit of moisture from his eyes, and his scruff poked at my neck.. “Oh, thank god,” he said, finally catching his breath a bit. “Thank god you're all okay. Oh my god... Are you all hurt? Park, your back, how's your back?!”

“Ah, still a bit sore,” Park squeaked, a bit red from being held. “But I can move.”

As Wataru let go, I was put again, two hands on my shoulders, in a grip—this time it was Zoe's. “What were you thinking?!” She was sweating, too, and her breath was heavy, her eyes wide with a manic terror. “Going off on your own like that, with... with someone you don't even know!”

“Seriously, that's what you're choosing to focus on?!” Wataru stood up and gaped at her.

“Sentimentality is all well and good, but I'm _deeply concerned_!” Zoe said. “We could be anywhere, meet anyone, and Yuki cha—”

“I did...” I said.

Pause. I placed my hand on the hilt of my sword.

“I did know her,” I continued. “I...” I shook my head. “I'm sorry, I don't know... quite what happened, but...”

“Yuki called her 'Mai',” Park said. Zoe blinked. “What?”

“...You did?” Zoe said, and I nodded. “Oh... I-I see.”

Wataru took a deep breath in, raised his hands, and then brought them down again. “Okay, so... now that we've got that clear.”

We were outside of the tunnel now, taking a break on a few conveniently placed benches at the station. “Yuki?” Wataru said, and I tilted my head. “So I was doing some thinking, and it seems easier for you to answer questions asked to you than to explain things yourself, so you can just tell me whether I'm right about any of this.”

“Okay,” I said.

“So, you called that girl Mai. That's the name you were using,” Wataru said, and I nodded. “But you said you were given that name by your family, and if _that girl_ is Mai, then you're not Mai. Right?”

I nodded again. “Yes.”

“So, here's my first question. _You're_ Ryo's childhood friend, right?” Wataru asked.

I paused. “Ah... yes. I am,” I said, and nodded. The lack of surprise was palpable.

“If her name is Mai, and you were also given the name Mai...” Wataru shook his head. “This feels ridiculous to ask. Are you some sort of... _body double_?”

There was a moment of silence.

“I mean, you didn't immediately say hi to Kenichiro or Ryo, and you kept your real name secret. And if that girl's Mai, well... Ryo said you're _also_ a natural whitehead,” and Wataru cocked his eyes up to my hair. I blushed. “Which, you know, also explains the sensitivity to sunlight.” Park put his head in his hands and groaned, and Wataru patted him on the back. “So the only thing I can really figure out here is that you're some kind of body double for the Prime Minister's daughter.”

There was another moment of silence.

“I...” I said, looking away, into the sky. “I'm... I have a special... power. My brain functions unusually. I'm...” I trailed off for a moment, and put my hand on my hilt. “I'm hypersensitive to human body language. That's actually why I need these glasses... without them, all I can see are peoples' movements, and nothing else. My mind sees and logs every movement I see, and profiles each human individual based on them. I'm also capable of directly replicating any of these movements within my own physical limits... so I'm very well-suited for the role.”

Wataru looked at Ryo, and Ryo nodded his confirmation. “Wow,” he said. “Is that how you learned how to use a sword?”

“Samurai movies, mostly,” I said.

“A... a real superpower?” Park blinked, his eyes wide. “A real superpower... my word.”

“Okay,” Wataru said, “so basically, the Orihara family picked up a kid with a superpower, and had her body double for their daughter. And the _real_ Mai was the one who was on that tram, and—”

“Dr. Kitachi?” Park asked, looking at Zoe, who'd been utterly lost in thought. “Was that the same girl you saw at the supermarket?”

Zoe sighed. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, she was. Unmistakable.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” I said. “Phanuel did say that my cognition was appearing in unusual places... I'm very sorry for the inconvenience.” I bowed. But then—

One two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve thirteen fourteen fifteen sixteen seventeen eighteen nineteen _twenty_ rings. It was eight in the evening now, as the sun sped forward across the sky and sank below, giving rise to the moon. Ryo's face scrunched up just as Phanuel poofed into existence in uniform in front of us.

“What did you guys even do?!” Phanuel puffed out, before scrabbling through their pockets for a few slips of paper.

I blinked. “I have no idea?”

Two parts of the Affliction's story were given to us now, and putting them together, we seemed to now be in possession of the entire story. “You _speedran_ this one, I don't even... know how...” Phanuel panted. “...you totally skipped... oh gosh...”

Park looked up to his side, and then exclaimed an “Oh my”. He stood up, and puttered past the walls of the train station to point. We followed him, our gazes being led to the great tree—which was now much, much closer.

We drove through the roads, Phanuel in tow, the distortion again having obviously cleared. Past the clock tower, we came to a hill atop which the massive tree sat. “Cinnamon,” Ryo said, looking at the tree. He hummed a few bars to himself. “A cinnamon tree.”

“Huh,” Wataru said. He put his hands on his waist. “That explains the name.”

“These mean 'fortune', yes, Ryo?” Park asked, and Ryo nodded. “Well—”

Zoe threw her arms wide as we started to climb the hill. “Wait. Something's wrong.”

And then—_there it was_, right in front of us. Our path was suddenly blocked by a _house_, and one clearly in much more use than the ones before. And though it was dark, making the details somewhat murky, one thing was obvious—

_the creatures_ sat in front of it.

“Shit.” Wataru said, cracking his knuckles. “Everyone, get ready to book it.”

The red beast's eyes floated across its torso once more, locking on to us. I drew my sword, holding it tightly and readying my stance for a thrust. Its response was—

“_Oh, hello! What are you doing out so late? Come in, come in!_”

And it turned, to go inside the house. “_Come on!_” It gestured to the blue beast. “_We wouldn't want to be poor hosts!_”

“_Ah, I know, I know._” The blue beast chuckled. “_Take pity on my old bones, Shino._”

“_Oh, you're not that old yet._”

And then they were gone.

This moment of silence was somehow even more silent than all the previous moments of silence we'd had during this excursion.

“We're going home,” Zoe declared, and none of us had the will to tell her no.


	25. Nameless Samurai, 10 ~ Holly on Reflection

It was only three in the afternoon by the time we returned, and I was certain that Zenji and Saori had not expected us back yet, if the play fight they'd gotten into in the atrium with towel rods and an empty paper towel roll around Saori's arm like some sort of cannon were any indication. Saori didn't look too fussed, but Zenji lit up red as a beet. “Uh—”

Zoe turned her head down to stare at him, but where I'd expected something rather withering, the look on her face was downright hyena-like. “Having fun, Mr. Fuyutsuki?”

“Uh...” Zenji stammered, looking at the towel rod in his hand. He then pointed it at Zoe. “Yeah! We're having a _blast_.” He put his hands on his hips and laughed loudly. “Ain't that right, Saori?”

“Mmhm.” Saori nodded. “How'd it go?”

“Long story,” Wataru said. “We should probably wait until dinner.” The rest of us nodded in agreement. He then looked more properly at Zenji. “Could I get you to come with me, Zenji?”

Zenji blinked, and pointed at himself. “Me?”

“Ryo and I are gonna head to the library and see if we can find that song anywhere, so I figured you'd be good to have along,” Wataru said. “And maybe you can keep us safe if any monsters pop out,” he added with a grin.

The look on Zenji's face was so thoroughly, definitely unimpressed that I found myself reflexively mimicking it. “So what, you're not gonna punch it this time?”

“Unfortunately,” Park said, and I saw in him a bit of fidgeting that made it look like he was preparing to leave, “he hasn't taken it off the table, as I recall.”

“Hey,” Wataru said with a little chuckle, “at least I didn't throw myself onto a moving tram to take a baton to a swordfight.” Park turned bright red.

Saori, who had been nodding off, perked up. “Did Yuki bring a sword to the swordfight?” I suddenly remembered I was part of this discussion, and swiveled around to try and hide my sword from the discussion even though everyone knew it was there.

—So, those three went off. I had a feeling I knew where Park was going, too, based on the direction he headed off in, but I didn't say anything to spare his nerves. “So,” I said, now that it was just the three of us remaining.

“So?” Zoe said. You see, she was frowning at me. I'd been inwardly dreading being alone with her since she and Wataru rescued me from under the tram, since I could tell, deep in my bones, that she had _words_ for me.

“L-listen,” I said, stepping back, a cold sweat breaking out on my brow. “I swear I didn't go off on my own, um, _intentionally_? I was—”

“Oh, no, I understand,” Zoe said, with her arms crossed and her eyes closed. The statue of Phanuel looked coldly down upon me. “You were having a dissociative episode.”

“Uh, yes!” I nodded, then nodded again, and then a third time for good measure. “Yes. I was... having a. Dissociative episode, that's what was happening. Mmhm. I'm glad you understand!”

Saori looked rapidly between the two of us for context as Zoe continued, “See, I have a bad feeling, and then you nearly get yourself killed. Maybe we need to discuss coping mechanisms so that you can not be quite so disoriented when, and let us be clear here that it is absolutely a 'when', that girl appears again.”

Absolutely nothing she was saying was really that threatening, but you need to understand, please, that Zoe Kitachi is a terrifying woman to have be unhappy with you. I cannot impress upon you, the theoretical reader, enough the degree to which her glowering demeanor caused my soul to wither and die in a cold flame of... let's say 'shame', that's the best way to describe it. “I don't think I was really in that much danger—”

“Yes, you were,” Zoe said, and honestly, she was probably right about that.

“Well, I—”

“She had a sword, Yuki,” Zoe said, and even though she wasn't moving at all, her aura pressed me closer to the wall. “You were in danger.”

“I'm really sorry—” My eyes darted toward Saori, begging, pleading with her, for some sort of relief. Given that it was Saori, though, it would likely take a moment for her to register it.

“An apology isn't going to keep you safe, Yuki. I'm concerned for your safety if you're going to keep putting yourself in danger like this.” Why did Zoe have to sound so sympathetic as she chided me, I asked myself? Why did I have to be the bad guy here just because I'd been skipping applying my sunscreen for four days straight resulting in fainting spells and a general debilitation of my already weak constitution and had also dissociated my way straight into an incident that might've caused Park serious injury?!

...I'd say that 'in hindsight, she was right', but it wasn't even in hindsight. She was just right.

Thankfully, at that point, an angel appeared. I hadn't expected her to be up and about, but I happened to see Bella poke her head out from the dining room and light up upon seeing me. “Oh—Yukiiii!” She waved. “Just the girl-adjacent individual I wanted to see!”

“Eh?” I blinked, as Bella bounded over and entered into Zoe's zone of control, defusing the tension of the discussion with aplomb.

“Apologies, Dr. Kitachi, but this ol' girl's got need of the littl'un here. If it ain't too much trouble, of course,” Bella said, wrapping her arm around me.

Zoe sighed a defeated sigh, and said, “Well, alright. I suppose I can let you off for now.”

The slump of relief in my shoulders was so thorough that Bella briefly lost her balance from the motion of her arm. She was quick to move again, though, dragging me off at high speeds. “Thanks a bunch, Doc! C'mon, now, chop to it!”

—So, here we were. Bella closed the door, let out a breath, and then turned to me and asked, “So what got _her_ knickers in such a twist?”

“Concern over my safety after today's events,” I said. “There was a swordfight and a tram crash... Park, Ryo, and I were buried under some rubble for a while—”

Bella was rolling up her sleeves and flitting about the room, before beginning to wash her hands. “Ah, so you got yourself in danger again.” I couldn't deny it, so I blushed and looked away. “Ahh, Yuki. One of these days, I swear, you're fixing to get yourself mommed to death.”

“By you?” I asked.

“Ehhh, me, Dr. Kitachi, maybe Tsukihi if she feels up to it,” Bella said. She was facing away from me as she shrugged. “Acting like you're too big for your britches tends to get you mommed. You've got some bad habits, sweetheart.”

“I know, I know,” I said, swiping the comment away with a wave of my hand. “You're easily the least threatening of the three, though, so I'd much rather be mommed by you than anyone else.”

That got Bella to turn around. “I can be threatening if I want to!”

“You're like a cuddly plush doll,” I responded. I'd begun to gravitate towards the kitchen end myself. “In that regard, you're not even in their league.”

Bella clutched her heart and wailed. “N'gauuuugh! All my gumption don't amount to a hill of beans, then?!”

“I didn't say that. Balance is important,” I said. I patted her on the shoulder. “Trust me. I've had multiple sets of parents, so I know these things. It's good to have a motherly figure who isn't too severe, and _that_ comes naturally to you. Colloquially, I'd call you a 'fun mom'.”

“Ahh, I see, I see.” Bella nodded. “...Come to think of it, ain't Dr. Kitachi only thirty-one or so?”

“I think she has the heart of a fifty-year-old,” I answered, and Bella made a noise of understanding. “Why _are_ we in the dining room?”

“Ah!” Bella clapped. “Sorry-dorry, I about plumb forgot. 'Scuse me for a second!” Bella was awfully quick on her feet, scurrying out of the dining room and back in under a minute. When she came back, she had a hanger-on; Juri had been dragged back with her, a blank expression on her face (and I could currently see her eyes, so I knew for absolutely certain).

“Huh?” Juri said, her face not moving an inch. “Hi, Yuki?”

“Hi,” I said back. I looked at Bella, who was pumping herself up in the corner to do some work. “Is there some reason you needed Juri?”

“This young woman right here”—and Bella gestured quite strongly at Juri—“barely eats. Now, I know you don't got that much money, Juri, but Yuki's got a living condition with less steady work than yours and they can cook like a fiend.”

Juri blinked. “What?”

My brow furrowed in concern. “Are your dietary habits that bad, Juri?”

“No,” Juri said, “my circulatory system—” She was cut off by Bella loudly proclaiming a 'yes, they are', and made a harrumphing noise, her face still not moving. “Why do you have to do this to me?”

“Sooner or later you're gonna starve to death, sweetheart,” Bella said.

“I am _not_!” Juri said, raising her voice but retaining that blank expression of hers.

I cleared my throat. “Juri, you forgot to wear your face.”

Pause.

“Oh, thanks.” Juri's expression shifted into one more proper for her statement. “I am _not_!”

“So,” Bella said, turning away from Juri and ignoring her outcry, “we're sittin' her down and you and I are going to show her how to make proper food on a budget.”

“Ah, I see,” I said, nodding and smiling. “Don't worry, Juri. I can't call myself a master by any means, but I'm reasonably proficient in this sort of thing.”

Juri rolled her eyes. “Your ego is showing.”

“So how did you like dinner last night?” I asked.

A cracking noise came out of Juri's throat, and she looked away with an almost cartoonish grimace. “Delicious, thanks.”

“Exactly.” I put my hands on my hips and puffed my chest out a little. “Pay close attention, Sonohara-_san_, as I and my lovely assistant demonstrate to you powerful forms of dietary magic.”

“Oh boy, I get to be a lovely assistant!” Bella chirped, clapping her hands.

—So that's how I spent the next few hours.

* * *

Knock, knock. Knock, knock. Park's knuckles rapped against the door. Knock, knock. “Minato? Hello, it's Park. I thought I might, ah... check on you?”

I can guess how Park was acting at this point. He was bright red, perhaps trembling a bit, at the idea of performing a social call, especially with a sore back. That said, the fact that he knocked long enough to get an answer is rather impressive. “Minato?”

“Mmmugh?” came the answer from inside the room. “Whozere?”

“It's Park,” Park said.

“It's Park who?” Minato asked.

“...J-Jong-ki Park?” Park sweated a little, and grasped his lapel. It was only a moment later, when a wheezing laugh came out of Minato from inside the room, that Park realized he'd been made the punchline of a joke.

“Hiiii, Park,” Minato said. “One sec, lemme, uh...” There were rustling sounds inside the room, many of which sounded metallic. Then, the door opened.

Minato was just in a loose, white shirt, which was stained in multiple places with oil stains. In fact, there was a bit of oil on his cheek, too. His hair hadn't been cared for at all today, and he—Park lit up. “Ah, h-hello, Minato. Hi! Hi.”

“Hey, Park,” Minato said, leaning against the wall with a put-on air of nonchalance. “How's it gooooin'?”

Park looked past Minato, and happened to see a number of mechanical pieces spread out on Minato's bed. In general, the room was fairly cluttered with a number of mechanical apparati, but whatever was on Minato's bed had been very thoroughly disassembled. “What is that?”

“Carburetor,” Minato answered, turning around and putting his hands on his waist. “I took it apart!” The glee in his voice was blinding.

“I can see that,” Park said. He gulped.

—For the record, when I say that Minato was just in a loose, white shirt, I do mean _just_. It was the only article of clothing on his person. Admittedly, the shirt was fairly long on him, but it was still apparent that he wasn't wearing anything else. This, no doubt, caused poor Park's heart to skip at least a few beats.

Being silently invited in, Park slunk into the room with the gentlest possible movements, as his poor mind probably couldn't take any larger steps. Minato got back to work on his carburetor, continuing to disassemble it even further. I can't help but imagine that he probably bent over a few times during this process.

“Are you, um...” Park took a moment to look about. Aside from all of Minato's mechanical trash, there was a hung-up paraglider, his surfboard, that jumpsuit of his, a skateboard... there were even a few extreme sports props that I still don't fully understand. “My, you really are quite the, ah... what's the term...” The term I'd use, incidentally, is 'adrenaline junkie', but Park didn't finish this sentence.

“So, what brings you around these parts?” Minato asked. He sniffed. “And why do you smell like the inside of a train tunnel?”

“Is that a particular smell?” Park blinked. “Ah, well... we've completed our investigation for the day, you see, and there was... er, a number of incidents occurred. My back is sore.”

“Ahh, gotcha, gotcha.” Minato nodded, not actually looking at Park. “Cool, cool, cool cool.”

“You're not okay,” Park observed.

“Hey, Park, how do you deal with it when you're suddenly experiencing a resurgence in trauma you haven't felt in about ten years?” Minato asked, his head whipping around at lightning speed. “Because, wow, I have no coping mechanisms!”

Park took a moment to ponder. “I drink, mostly. It tends to also alleviate the trauma, I'm luckier when I drink, you see.”

“For real? Maybe I should try that,” Minato said, and the look on his face was so earnest it made Park wilt. “What?”

“No, you... really shouldn't.” Park said.

So, now the two of them were sitting next to each other on Minato's bed, Park having to work to find a large enough space amidst the remains of this poor, slaughtered carburetor. “Wataru mentioned you had some sort of 'episode' last night, but didn't elaborate,” Park said, and Minato froze. “Not that I'm, ah, asking you to do so, or anything, I just say so you know why I had reason to wonder as to your mental state enough to come check on you even though I'm an anxious mess who's just undergone at least one brush with near death.”

“Ah, aha, yeah,” Minato said, averting his eyes.

Pause.

“You mind if I get real for a sec here?” Minato asked.

“I don't have a problem with that,” Park answered.

“I'm a fucking mess, dude,” Minato said.

“I've gathered as much,” Park said.

“It's like I'm back in high school,” Minato said, putting his hand on his forehead. He was sweating, and he chuckled under his breath. “I haven't felt this bad in ages. Man, is this what being afraid feels like? This sucks. How does anyone even deal with this?”

“Well, in my case, er, by drinking, mostly,” Park said.

Pause.

“Thanks for coming by,” Minato said, bowing his head. He stared out the window. “I appreciate it.”

“Well, naturally!” Park said, putting his hand on his chest. “Er, that is to say, I would, I think, do the same for any of my friends... er, if that's not—”

“You're a really nice guy, Park,” Minato said. He'd turned his head back to Park, and was smiling brightly. “It's, uh, it's been a while since I had the chance to just sit down and talk like this with someone.”

“Er, well, um.” Park's cheeks lit up. “It seems you might have quite a bit of time for that, in the next few weeks.”

“Huh. Yeah, I guess so,” Minato said.

Pause. The sun sank slightly.

“Can you stick around for a bit?” Minato asked. He rubbed the back of his head. “It's stupid, but suddenly I don't wanna be alone, y'know?”

Park could've said a lot here, but the request finally made him blurt out something he'd been thinking for a while. “Er, could you _put on some underwear_?”

The noise Minato made at this point was, I'm told, rather like a dying animal. He stood up, ran to his dresser, grabbed a pair of briefs, and slammed them on at top speed. “_I am so sorry_,” he said.

“It's alright, really, uh,” Park said, his relief at Minato no longer being bottomless so thick you could cut it with a knife. “Frankly, your lack of shame regarding your body is something I find rather admira_ble?!_”

“Eh, it, uh, it comes with its own host of problems, I wouldn't recommend it,” Minato said. He sat back down. “Sorry.”

“It's alright, really,” Park said. “I've done some very silly things before, myself.”

—As I understand it, the two of them spent those next few hours discussing Minato's habits in disassembling machines and the intricacies of some of the magical girl anime that Park was currently into in turn.

* * *

Waking up this late in the day wasn't something Tsukihi was used to. She hadn't done it in years, and despite Phanuel's good intentions, any irregularity in one's sleep cycle was going to throw one off. It was with a heavy sigh that she sloughed out of her bed, her suit for today horribly wrinkled, and began running her fingers through her hair.

Her muscles twitched with the expectation that now was the time they should be doing something. Tsukihi considered jumping jacks, but wrote off the idea just as quickly. She stared inside her bathroom, and took a look at the bathtub inside, before writing it off as too small.

With a loud groan, she put her head in her hands. A second groan, and then a third. Then she got back to work, heading to her dresser and grabbing a few things before walking out of her room.

—Here's one thing you might find interesting to know. The Itagaki duo's sleep schedules are actually rather synchronized. As such, Tsukihi was met by a similarly discombobulated Anzu. “What.” Anzu groaned.

“Hello,” Tsukihi said.

“Fuck off,” Anzu said, running her fingers through her hair.

Since Tsukihi wasn't feeling particularly up to being serious, she observed, “You get that from me, you know.”

“Huh?” Anzu mumbled.

“The running your fingers through your hair, I mean,” Tsukihi said. “Naomi always kept hers much shorter, so she just had to shake her head and her hair was fine in the morning. I envied that about her.”

With an expression mixing befuddlement and disdain on her face, Anzu craned her head around to stare at her mother. “What the fuck makes you think you can just bring up Mom like that?” Then, “I know what Mom's hair looked like.”

“Yes, but when she woke you up in the morning she was usually ready already,” Tsukihi said. She snorted. “One of the few times she wasn't, you woke up and you saw her and you started yelling. 'Mommy, Mommy, did you get hit by a _tornado_?' She wasn't in much of a state to laugh, but I thought it was hilarious.”

There was a moment of silence before Anzu responded, “Oh, I get it now, I remember that. After that, you said, 'I guess I'm a tornado now', and _that_ got Mom to laugh. Isn't that a bit of a crass joke to make in front of a child?”

“You were too young to get it, it was fine,” Tsukihi said. She smiled. “You know, my parents always hated the kinds of jokes being around her made me make. They liked her fine, but they said my conduct around her was disorderly.”

Anzu's eyes were averted. “It's been a long time since you mentioned them.”

“...Anzu,” Tsukihi said, after a louder moment of silence. Her brow was furrowed. “I'm glad you've been getting along well with Yuki.”

“You call this 'getting along well'?” Anzu scoffed.

“Quite,” Tsukihi said. “It's been a long time since you hit it off with someone this well. Not since—”

“_Shut up!_”

The stamp of Anzu's foot rang out through the corridor.

“...I'm sorry,” Tsukihi said. She looked down. “I... heard what happened to her. I should've apologized first.”

“What the hell do you know?” Anzu threw up one hand, and started storming off. “Fuck off, you old hag. You're not worth the time of day.” Tsukihi grimaced, and Anzu continued. “And I know how much I get from you. I look in the mirror and it makes me want to puke. You don't have to _remind_ me, Tsukihi.”

—If Tsukihi wasn't sure where she wanted to go before, she was now.

I neglected to mention the full layout of the manor's basement beforehand, as it was actually quite large and wasn't going to be immediately relevant. However, one of its main fixtures was actually an old-fashioned public bath, for those times when one's bathtub simply wasn't sufficient. It was a large room that I found myself deeply, spiritually terrified of giving the time of day, so I never once visited it willingly during my time on these islands.

The same could not be said for Tsukihi, who sloughed her way down the stairs toward it with the intend of soaking her problems away. She passed the garage and the wine cellar on her way there, as well as a few other rooms, to reach the large, wooden gateway. Traditional blue cloth proclaiming the area's status hung across the gateway.

Also present in the gateway happened to be another human being: namely, one Saori Aoyama. She was still as dressed as she ever was, but she too was carrying a change of clothes in her arms. When she heard Tsukihi walk up, she said, “Oh,” and then slowly blushed. “Hello.”

“You too, hm?” Tsukihi asked.

“Did a lot of studying while they were gone. Organized the books in the upstairs archive. Did a bit of grocery shopping. Long day,” Saori said. She nodded, and then more fervently shook her head. “My head's feeling a bit foggy. I thought maybe metaphorically lighting myself on fire would help.”

“Well,” Tsukihi said.

The two of them stared at each other.

“After you,” Tsukihi said.

“No, after you,” Saori said. Tsukihi shrugged and walked in first.

The bathhouse was much larger than most other rooms in the manor, with a yellow and white tiling that always seemed a bit tinged by steam, even in the entryway before any of the baths were reached. There were smaller rooms to the side for gender-divided baths if necessary, their wooden doors bordered by the appropriate signage, but past the entryway was its largest bath, for co-ed bathing. Additionally, there were sauna rooms if necessary as well.

“It's less divided than I remember,” Tsukihi said, as she began taking off her sleep clothes. The entryway contained thirteen sets of shoe lockers, and she picked one at random to open and place her clothes in. She then remembered she was actually saying that _to_ someone. “Ah. My parents used to run a _sento_, you see.”

(A _sento_ is a specific type of communal public bathhouse in Japan. This bathhouse was a bit too lavish to fit the utilitarian nature of your average _sento_, but it also obviously wasn't an _onsen_. My fiancee and I did have a lovely visit to an _onsen_ last year, as I was able to stifle my discomfort long enough to go with her, but in general I could never go to either sort by myself because, especially considering my political status, I would be _noticed_, and that has a very real chance of causing me to have a panic attack so severe that I might literally die of terror. People sometimes tell me I'm exaggerating, but they can stuff it.)

Saori, meanwhile, was totally rigid, having not doffed any of her clothing or even made a move toward a locker. “Aoyama?” Tsukihi asked, turning around. Judging from the way Saori was fidgeting, and yet was able to keep her eyes on Tsukihi, it probably wasn't nervousness from Tsukihi being almost nude now, then. “Is there a problem?” Saori muttered something indistinct. “I didn't quite catch that.”

Looking away, Saori mumbled something along the lines of, “Feels weird.” She reached up to fiddle with the collar of her coat.

“Ah, so you've never done this before,” Tsukihi said. She sat down on a stool in front of the shoe lockers.

“I'm not used to people seeing me without my coat on,” Saori said. She fidgeted a bit more.

“Are you nervous about something?” Tsukihi asked, and Saori nodded. Tsukihi did her best to smile. “I assure you there's nothing you could show me that would cause me to think less of you. You don't have to worry.”

Saori took a deep breath in, and then said, “Okay.” She removed her coat, and the shirt underneath. By the time she was down to her underwear, her physique—rounded and a bit wide, especially around her thighs—finally actually showed. Her breathing was slow and labored through the process, but she did manage to do it, and place her own clothes, coat included, into the locker.

So, here they were. Two nearly nude women in a bathhouse. Saori looked over her shoulder at Tsukihi, who raised an eyebrow. “I don't see anything to be worried about,” Tsukihi said. “You're a fine-looking woman, Aoyama.”

Saori put her hand to her heart and let out a long breath. “Okay, thank goodness.” She pumped her fists. “Yaaaay. Fear conquered.”

The bath itself spat out its water through tacky jade _shiisaa_ statues, of all things, but I'm told the water itself was a very pleasant sort of hot that had the ideal degree of waking these two up. “Does that coat hold some sentimental value?” Tsukihi asked, and Saori nodded.

“It's my thing. I've had it since before I can remember,” Saori said. “I was a little disappointed when I got tall enough to fit it, I liked how big it was on me.”

—Tsukihi had gotten the rundown of Saori's condition the day before, you see, so she didn't need any further explanation. “I see,” Tsukihi said. “You know it's yours, though?”

Saori nodded. “Mmhm. It felt familiar when I got it. I remember wearing it... at some point.” She was smiling.

“It must've been a very pleasant memory if you can feel that even without remembering it,” Tsukihi said. The smile was contagious.

“I was riding piggyback,” Saori said. “I was wearing it, riding piggyback. I don't remember whose back it was, but I remember he was a man, and I remember how his back felt. I remember I trusted him a lot, and I loved him, too. I don't know, but I think he was probably the man who left me the coat at the hospital.”

“Perhaps your father?” Tsukihi asked. “Or an older brother?”

Saori shook her head. “I don't remember that much. I just remember I was happy.” She paused. “I'm sorry for being weird earlier.”

“It's alright,” Tsukihi said. “In this day and age, I'm probably the weird one. These sorts of things were already well on their way out when you were born.”

“Your parents ran a bathhouse?” Saori asked.

Tsukihi nodded, then took a moment to ponder whether she should continue. “It was their business for the sake of getting money for the shrine we maintained,” she continued. “My father was the head of a shrine in Nara, and our family takes its maintenance quite seriously.”

“Oh,” Saori said. Her eyes widened a touch. “Your family runs a shrine?”

“A line of _kannushi_ going back to before Japan opened its borders, yes,” Tsukihi said. “My younger sister runs the shrine nowadays since our parents' passing, though I financially support it and still technically have the title. She was always better at that sort of thing than me, but perhaps if we'll be dueling with monsters, I should practice my old exorcism rites.”

That was apparently meant as a joke, but Saori said, “Oooh. Can I learn, too?”

Tsukihi had to take a moment to register that request. “Er... certainly. I'm by no means an expert, though.”

“My teachers in high school always told me I needed to be more worldly,” Saori said. She smiled. “That sounds like fun. Maybe I could wear one of the outfits.”

“They're quite heavy,” Tsukihi said with a little chuckle.

“That's okay,” Saori said. “I can lift if I need to. I'm not that weak.”

“Alright, then,” Tsukihi said, giving Saori another smile. “Sure. You can be my trainee.”

“Yaaaaaaaay,” Saori said, raising her arms.

The two women sat for a bit, soaking in the hot water. At one point, I'm told Saori placed her head inside a statue's mouth and acted like she was being eaten.

“My body image is in a weird place,” Saori said, some time after she was not eaten. She looked at Tsukihi to get the go-ahead to speak, and Tsukihi nodded. “Um... so, basically, I've been a girl for as long as I can remember. But I know I was assigned male at birth, and I don't remember how that felt. So I'm always a little worried that I don't look right. And I don't really have friends, so I don't have people to ask about it.”

“You look fine, Aoyama,” Tsukihi said, and Saori closed her eyes and giggled happily.

“Thank you, Tsukihi,” Saori said. She looked down into the water... though I'm not sure how much she could actually see. “The people here are very nice. You, Bella, Wataru, Mr. Park, Ryo, Yuki, Zenji... I hope we can stay friends after we get out of here.”

_After_, hm? Tsukihi hadn't really thought about that. “...That would be nice,” she said. “I haven't had many friends in quite some time, myself.” She laughed out loud, this time. “What on earth sin could someone like you commit?”

“I'm curious myself,” Saori said.

“You're a surprisingly chatty girl when you're awake,” Tsukihi observed. “It's charming.”

“That's what my professor always says, too,” Saori said, looking off into the distance at nothing, because she couldn't see.

* * *

“Found it!”

Zenji's voice called out from the bottom of the library. When Wataru poked his head out, he and Ryo were huddled around a page of sheet music they'd found from somewhere. “Doesn't have the title,” Zenji said, “but it's the one.”

“Cool,” Wataru said, and returned to the computer room.

—Whatever interface Minato had looked at, it wasn't here anymore. This Persons of Interest database no longer allowed for such simple searching. Instead, it had been reorganized to directly display the 'chapters', and each one was locked behind a question. Wataru had been able to easily answer his own question: “What was **your** high school catchphrase?” I will not mention it for the sake of his honor.

Of course, he didn't know any of the others, nor who _could_ answer them. “What was **your first love's** name?” “What was **your** **callsign**?” “Why did **you** read those **writings**?” “How many years has it been since **you've gone home**?”

And—“Who was **the** **culprit**?”

It was all a big, head-scratching mystery to Wataru. He knew what he'd seen when Minato had collapsed three days ago, and yet that whole thing was gone. “I don't know what happened,” Phanuel said from their perch on his shoulder. “I guess Nagisa must've changed it... I'm real sorry, Wataru.”

“It's fine, it's just weird.” Wataru sighed, and stood up. “You're an odd system, Phanuel.”

“I know,” Phanuel said, wilting a little. Wataru walked across the hallway again, to the statue room, and turned to his own statue—he'd been expecting, based on what was said, something like that horrific monster that had represented his sister.

Instead, cast in silver, was a little statue of... well, his sister. Emi Shinoe. She sat in a hospital bed, and to her side, a younger Wataru had his head lowered. He remembered this, of course. He remembered that day quite vividly. “So there's gonna be twelve more of these to keep me company, huh?” Wataru asked. He laughed to himself. “Well, hopefully they're all nice. Glad I got to live to see it. You good?”

Phanuel had poofed off of Wataru's shoulder, and they were looking up at the rows of spaces. “Something's odd here, but I can't quite put my finger on it.”

Wataru blinked. “That's a bad sign.”

“Hopefully it's not a big deal,” Phanuel said. They looked down, and kicked the nonexistent dirt a little. “I would hate to cause you guys more problems.”

“I'm sure it'll be fine in the end,” Wataru said, smiling. “I—”

His optimistic words were cut off by the loud sound of Zenji and Ryo singing some song he didn't recognize together on the bottom floor. He poked his head out. “You two having fun?”

Ryo looked up and nodded. “Yes!”

“Great!” Wataru gave a thumbs up, and Ryo gave a thumbs up back.

* * *

It was now a few hours later. Later enough, in fact, to call for dinner. I'd wound up working with Juri long enough for it to get into my prep time, so I decided to continue doing what I had been doing, just writ large for thirteen people this time. And, when dinner was called for—

“Kenichiro!” I cried, my eyes widening when I saw him come through the door.

“I'm not gonna stay or anything, but I'm starving, what can I say.” He shrugged and gave me a wry grin. “Thanks. I guess you _can_ cook.”

“Darn right,” I said, huffing to myself. Bella, who'd been assisting me still, laughed to herself. “What?”

“Ahh, just takes me back is all,” Bella said. “My daddy had about the same reaction to me, too. Not that I'm as good as you, o'course, just a thought.”

“I'll tell you about today later, Kenichiro,” I said. “I probably should, but... well, go eat.”

“I'll eat,” Kenichiro said, and then he went to go eat.

And so, the room eventually came to have twelve people inside. I'll admit I was a bit surprised to see Minato, but I also couldn't help but feel a bit proud of Park, given that they arrived together. <strike>And</strike>

_Ring ring. Ring ring. “Yello?”_

_ “It's the scene on the fifth day where Wataru explains the whole Mai situation for me,” I say. _

_ “Give them a best of,” my fiancee says._

_ “Thank you, sweetie,” I say, and hang up._

Here are a few of the reactions that occurred during dinner to the story you've already heard. Zenji had several loud yells to belt out at several pieces of the situation, especially the segments regarding my home life. Tsukihi was mostly quiet, but did have some glaring to do about the whole swordfight thing. Anzu...

Well, when Wataru explained that I was Hitori Sawamura, Anzu chimed in with, “Well, _duh_, I thought everyone knew that already. It's not like they did a good job of hiding it.” That covered up a flinch and a 'geh!' from Minato.

“We'll have to be cautious of this Mai girl when she appears again, then,” Tsukihi said. She put her hand on her chin. “It's likely she's a creation of Yuki's mind somehow.”

“...Right, yes,” Zoe said. “I think it's also worth noting that it seems like some of these mental creations can appear outside of their respective 'stages', such as her and that black rabbit you mentioned, Mr. Park.”

“And that thing in the mirror,” Anzu said.

Pause. Zoe froze. “Oh, you were seeing that too?” Saori asked.

I tilted my head. “Thing in the mirror?”

Minato nodded. “Yeah, there's some gross thing that shows up in the mirror sometimes. Just for like a second, though. You _haven't_?”

“I don't look at mirrors much,” I said, averting my gaze. “They don't really help me.” Ryo nodded.

“Huh,” Minato said.

“Well, if these things can show up anywhere, we need to be really cautious,” Wataru said. He was standing for most of this conversation. “Try and report anything weird you see, okay? That goes for everyone. It might be important.” The group generally nodded and said their assent. “Who's seen this mirror thing?”

Bella, Juri, Wataru, Zenji, and I didn't raise our hands. The other seven did. “Good to know,” Wataru said. “Everyone keep your eyes out for that black rabbit, too, just in case.”

—I noticed that Tsukihi was saying less today, and that Wataru was taking point, but I didn't know what to say about it just yet. As for discussions of the puzzle...

“So, does anyone recognize this song?” Zenji asked. There was a resounding 'no'. “Great! Fuckin' super.”

“To be honest, I don't, ah, understand much of what happened around me today,” Park said. He curled into himself a little. “Or the situation. Um, do you, Yuki?”

“I've got a decent picture of what's going on in this stage, but it's not quite complete yet,” I said. “I think I will need to see a bit further. Thank you all for indulging me,” I said, nodding and bowing a little to the table.

“With all this tragic backstory, maybe you need it,” Zenji said, snorting and looking away. He probably blushed when he realized he was being nice.

* * *

The voices in her head were being particularly noisy tonight, so Anzu had to escape them earlier than usual. As such, she found herself on the beach as the sun was reaching the horizon's bottom, wandering aimlessly. Thankfully, the noise of the waves was enough to keep her mind off of it.

And—there on the beach, who else but Kenichiro Washizu sat, fishing by his lonesome. Anzu had no idea why she was walking over to him, but here she was. She walked up and sat beside him on the beach, grimacing a bit at the sand. “Not a fan?” Kenichiro asked.

“Eh, I've never liked sand,” Anzu said.

There was a moment of silence, as both of them pondered the waves. Kenichiro sent his line out again. “Why are you even fishing? These fish aren't real,” Anzu said. “What's the point?”

“Exerting my power over smaller life forms makes me feel alive inside,” Kenichiro said. When Anzu turned her head to glare at him, he laughed. “It's just a relaxation thing. I've had enough of that hot, hot gaming for a while now.”

“Huh,” Anzu said. “I guess.”

“My buddy Satoshi asked me the same thing once in the real world, y'know. I don't eat the fish I catch, see, and he asked me why I fished to begin with. And I turned to him and I asked him, 'well, why does a bird fly?'”

“Not all birds fly,” Anzu said.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Anyway, Satoshi says, 'because it was designed that way.' And I laughed and said, sure. There's no point to this story, I'm just rambling,” Kenichiro said.

Anzu thought for a moment. “A bird flies because it has to,” she said. “If it doesn't, it'll die. Flying's how it gets anything done.”

“I heard a really interesting answer once,” Kenichiro said, raising one finger. “I was fishing once, and I dropped that question on someone, 'cause back then I was using it as like a 'well does the Pope shit in the woods' sorta thing, you know. And they say, 'because it _can_.'”

“Huh?” Anzu raised her eyebrow.

“The way she saw it, a bird doesn't have to fly, but if it can fly, it should fly. A bird flying is right, and just. It's, what, the way they enact change? The world could become better through a bird flying, so a bird that can fly should fly,” Kenichiro said. He laughed to himself. “A few months later, I married her. Twist ending! Boom!”

“Huh,” Anzu said. “That's interesting. Big on societal movements?”

“We both were,” Kenichiro said. “Me and her were of a real like mind there. I used to be part of this little social club, we called it the Emerald Eagles, I call it a social club but it was like five people who all just wanted to make the world a better place. Me and a bunch of my friends, we all wanted to reform Japan and fix things.”

“Yeah, that sounds like fun,” Anzu said, putting her elbows on her knees and leaning forward. “Making things better. Sounds like fun.”

“I know, right?” Kenichiro laughed. “But don't sound so jaded, kiddo. Your whole life's ahead of you.”

“Debatable,” Anzu said.

“That's rough, buddy,” Kenichiro said. He shook his head. “Just don't grow up to be like me. I'm not a great role model.”

“Yuki sure seems to like you,” Anzu said, snorting.

There was a moment of silence. “Thanks for getting on so well with them,” Kenichiro said.

Anzu's face scrunched up. “You call this 'getting on well'?”

Kenichiro let out a heavy sigh as the sky darkened. “That kid... Yuki's always had a real bad habit, you know. They're the kind of kid who tries to be whatever the person they're talking to needs them to be... they just wanna make people happy, I think.” He paused. “I know you don't trust them all the way, but I just wanna tell you—I've never seen Yuki lie except to help someone else. At the end of the day, they're a real sweet kid. They just wanna help.”

Anzu sighed. “Yeah, for such a cagey weirdo, they're a real nice person, huh.”

“That's about the size of it,” Kenichiro said. His eyes darkened, too. “I think they need some friends, now more than ever.”

“Why didn't you adopt them?” Anzu asked.

“Couldn't,” Kenichiro said, shaking his head. “I wanted to. Really did. But I got my request denied, and by the time I was able to combat it at all, they were already off with the Oriharas. I couldn't overturn that.”

“Huh,” Anzu said. “Sounds like some pretty shady business.”

“Yup,” Kenichiro said.

The two of them contemplated the waves some more.

“It's like math homework,” Kenichiro said. Anzu made a noise. “I know you were thinking about it. 'Why doesn't Yuki use their power to just solve these things easy,' right?” Right on the money. “It's like, you know, when your teacher says you have to show your work on the math problem to get the point. You can do it in your head just fine, but you have to show how you did it so you can show you learned it properly.”

“...Huh?” Anzu blinked.

“Sure, they could learn a lot real easy. But if I know them at all, they feel like that's 'cheating'. They want to do things fair, to not have to be treated weird because of that power of theirs. They wanna show their work, show how anyone could reach their conclusion,” Kenichiro continued. “If they have to cheat to do it, it's not fair to them. They've always been like that.”

“Huh,” Anzu said, and she nodded. “I... can get that, actually. Why didn't they just say that?”

“They've always been like that, too,” Kenichiro said, and both of them laughed. “Like I said. I think having friends matters a lot to Yuki. I can tell you kinda cut the bullshit and make Yuki act like themself, and I think that's great, personally. People oughta take care of Yuki, if you ask me."

“Making some pretty big assumptions there, old man,” Anzu said. She was smiling, though. “Maybe you should try just being a bit more honest with them, yourself.”

Kenichiro gave a self-loathing little smile, himself. “Ah... I can't do that. Yuki's the one person I can't be honest with the most. I don't want them to stop seeing me as a good person.”

“...I can get that,” Anzu said.

—And the two of them fell silent once more, staring up into the stars.

* * *

And on the other side of the manor—

“_I don't see... what I see... fallen away, fallen behind..._”

I caught her earlier in the song, it seemed, this time. “Mrs. Itagaki?” I was out on the beach for a stroll, myself. Tsukihi was on a little dune, playing her guitar and singing to herself. “Are you alright?”

She stopped playing, and turned her head to me. “Ah, Yuki. I'm alright.”

After the conversation at dinner, I was feeling a touch overwhelmed, but at the same time, being alone wasn't preferable. “May I sit next to you?”

“Yes,” Tsukihi said. So I did. She continued to play a few chords without singing.

“How long have you been playing the guitar?” I asked, tilting my head.

Tsukihi gave a little smile. “About twenty-three years now. It's a funny story, really. My wife, Naomi, well—this was hers, originally, actually. She loved acoustic guitar music, and she had this guitar, but she absolutely couldn't learn how to play it. I wasn't as into it, but I decided to learn it so I could play it for her myself.”

I put my hand on my chest and gasped. “That's so romantic!”

That got Tsukihi to laugh. “Do you enjoy that sort of thing, Yuki?”

“Well, I wouldn't say I _don't_, necessarily...” I trailed off. “Um... what was your wife like?”

“She was a firecracker. Much more energetic than me,” Tsukihi said. I saw her gaze soften into the distance. “She was much more... caring, for people, I suppose. She was bright... I relied on her for a lot.” She sighed. “I've never been great with showing my feelings, or with people in general. We worked together well, I think. I loved her dearly.”

“I see,” I said. I looked off into the darkness, too.

“Naomi was always better-suited to being a mother, you know,” Tsukihi continued. “I was always good for brute work, or intimidation, but Naomi was kind, and able to be motherly in the way that a growing child needed. She'd come to Naomi first for comfort, or help on homework, but then she'd come to me and say 'Mommy, Mommy, there's a scary man at the door!' I'd roll up my sleeves, then, and I'd pick up my old baseball bat and go toward the door.”

“Anzu used to call you 'Mommy'?” I asked.

“She did,” Tsukihi said.

The waves continued to flow in and out.

“She gets on well with you, you know. Anzu, I mean,” Tsukihi said. I obviously reacted rather obviously to that, as she continued, “It might not be obvious, but she enjoys your company quite a bit. She's like me, so I can tell. Especially when I was younger. You know, when I was a bit under her age I always used to dream of being a roadie for Nine-Inch Nails.”

I sputtered. “What?!”

Tsukihi kept going. “So, I can tell. She likes you quite a bit. She doesn't have many _real_ friends, and—” She cut herself off for a moment, but then continued, her voice lower. “She lost her best friend some time ago.”

“...What?” I let out a soft gasp.

“Her name was Maho, as I recall. A girl from the school's literature club. She was a bit plain, but she and Anzu got along very well. I think that in many ways, they were kindred spirits,” Tsukihi said. “When I saw them together, it was one of the few times I saw Anzu smiling.” She paused. “She was hit by a car some months back. She's not dead, but she's in a coma. Anzu refuses to speak any further on the matter.”

“Oh,” I said. I looked down into my lap.

“So, I think having you is probably good for her,” Tsukihi said. She shook her head. “But what do I know? I'm a poor excuse for a mother to begin with. It's entirely possible I'm completely off-base.”

“I don't think that's true,” I said, my voice a little awkwardly loud. I hunched back down when Tsukihi reacted to my voice, and then said, “I don't think you seem like a bad mother.”

The waves rolled in, and out, and in, and out.

“I've worked for ten years to try and ensure that Anzu and I could remain financially stable,” Tsukihi said. “But what use is it if she hates me?”

Looking back up, I said, “I don't know.”

“Right,” Tsukihi said. “That's a question I have to answer for myself.” She paused. “If she's anything like me... Anzu needs someone she can be honest with, and it seems to me like you're that kind of person. So... thank you.”

“I just wish the two of you could speak on equal terms,” I said. “It seems like the two of you have a lot you haven't said to each other.”

Tsukihi nodded. “I know.”

She'd continued playing the chords of that song for the conversation, and I scooted up. “May I give that a try?” Tsukihi nodded, and handed me the guitar. I held it in the position I'd seen her use, and mimicked the chords. Her brow furrowed as she watched me play the exact same chords I'd seen her play.

“...Fascinating,” Tsukihi said.

“Could you teach me some more?” I asked, as I continued playing. “I can extrapolate the basics from this, but a bit of formal instruction might help.”

“Why the sudden interest?” Tsukihi asked.

I shook my head. “I was interested last time, too.”

Tsukihi smiled, crossing her arms. “Alright. Try not to outdo me, though. This is one of the few things I have.”

—And so the guitar continued to play out into the dark sky, as I looked up into the stars and thought of Mother.


	26. Nameless Samurai, 11 ~ My Hero (Anata ni Aete)

—There was something wrong in my room.

My eyes shot open, and I turned onto my back to look up. The ceiling was... grey. Dilapidated. I slowly lurched a bit further upwards, to look out of a window. There were no lights on in my room, all of them seeming to have long since burnt out, but a sickly orange light came in through the window. Swirling clouds wrapped up like a vortex as whatever light came from that sunless sky trickled into my room.

The blankets were torn, eaten through. The mirror was cracked—well, that was just normal. My dresser seemed like it had been ransacked, and cracks ran all throughout the wall, water stains trickling in from a few corners.

Instinctively, I held my blanket close, and grabbed for my sword—but it wasn't where I'd left it. I took a deep breath in, and started patting around more fervently, but I simply couldn't find it. Dust on the floor had built up to the point where it seemed like nobody could've ever possibly lived in this room. I looked again toward the dresser,

and _then_ I _saw_ it.

My _mirror_ had fallen over. _Something_ was up from behind it. Something illuminated in the light.

It had something resembling a human's shape, but it was clearly too large to be a human. Its head was covered in a white veil, and beneath there, the pale skin was streaked with blood around its long, long neck. It stood up, and up, and up, until it reached the top of my room. Its legs were covered under a long white dress, which, too, was stained in blood from the waist down, slowly growing from a splatter to become fully drenched by the feet—or were there legs at all? Its thin shoulders extended into arms that were far, far too long, and widened, widened, widened as the texture changed, almost like its skin was being shredded off, to great, red, bloody-looking claws.

The white parts of its clothes sparkled in the light. It did not make any sudden movements, or launch at me to attack, but nevertheless I backed as far backwards as I could away from it, running up against the head of my bed as it curled up to its full height.

“Lay down,” Mai said.

“What?” I turned my head to realize that Mai was in my bed, next to me. She was staring coldly and impassively up at the ceiling, not moving a muscle but to breathe.

My head turned back toward the thing. It had come closer, one, two steps, maybe, and I hadn't heard it. Perhaps there was no sound to hear. It was coming closer. It was coming closer. It was coming closer. It was coming closer.

“Lay down,” Mai said. “Don't be afraid.”

“W-we need to run,” I said, my whole body trembling. “Mai, we need to—”

“She'll catch you if you run,” Mai said. “Showing your fear gives her power. It lets her in. Lay down, close your eyes, and be still.”

It was at the foot of the bed. I could hear it muttering something under its breath.

“Mai—” I said.

“Yuki, _listen to me_,” Mai snapped, before returning to her still posture. “Please. I'm trying to keep us safe. Lay down, close your eyes, and be still. Trust me. This will pass if she can't get in. Just copy me and we'll get through this.”

I laid my head down, and copied her. My breathing slowed in an instant, and my body stopped trembling. The fear inside my body had no outlet. The thing continued to move. Eventually—I heard the covers start rustling. Had it come onto the bed?

...No. No, it hadn't. I felt something underneath my body, and my eyes, which I hadn't yet managed to close, saw what was happening. The thing's head was above me. It had bent over across the bed to look at me, and its claws were coming underneath me to lift me up. It was picking me up, gently, almost sweetly. Its height was such that it could bend over across the entire bed. It was ignoring Mai, I think, to lift me up.

It was still muttering something. I couldn't quite make it out. “Don't let her in,” Mai said. “Close your eyes, and dream of something that makes you feel happy, and safe.”

I shut my eyes.

I felt myself being lifted further up, and I could hear the beast laughing quietly. It held me in its open palms, like I was fragile, something that could break easily. I think it probably bent its head closer to take a closer look.

It shifted me to one palm, and I wasn't sure what to expect until one of its fingers started gently _running through my hair_.

_The smell of chlorine was almost suffocating. I couldn't figure out why my parents had brought me to this place, with all these people present. It wasn't like I could swim. The water was cold and unpleasant, and everything around me was chaos. I couldn't wear my glasses in the water, either._

_As I was looking around, trying to make sense of what was going on, I saw on the diving board a flash of white—_

“_**Such a pretty girl...**_” It laughed under its breath.

“Don't let her in!” Mai snapped. Huh...? Was that a... memory? If I thought about it more... what was that? “Think about it later! Dream of something that makes you feel safe!”

Safe. Safe. Right. I did my best to ignore the uncomfortably sharp claw running through my hair, and the fact that I could start to feel this thing breathing on me. Safe. What made me feel safe? What... made me feel safe? I needed to remember. I needed to...

_“Owwwwwww!”_

—I was sniffling, and sobbing. My ankle hurt, really badly, and I couldn't stop myself from crying. “C'mon, kiddo,” Kenichiro said, “it's gonna be fine.”

“But it...” I sniffled. “It hurts! It hurts a lot!”

“Man, you never sprained your ankle before?” Kenichiro chuckled to himself. “The life of an introvert... C'mon, Hitori. Have I ever lied to you?”

“Mm-mm.” I shook my head. “But it... hurts.”

Kenichiro gave me a sympathetic smile. “I know.”

—During a bit of overzealous outside play, I'd sprained my ankle. The medics had rushed me in, but I'd been too afraid to handle that, so Kenichiro had stepped in and insisted he'd handle it himself for a bit.

The door to my room opened, and another child ran in. His ahoge spun every which way—a quirk of his was that his, unlike mine, was very emotive, you see. “Hitori! Are you okay?!”

“M-Mamoru,” I said.

Mamoru Sagami was another child who'd lost his parents in the fire and come here. Compared to me, he was much plainer, with brown hair, and brown eyes, and much warmer skin like you'd find just about anywhere. He'd been starting to grow out his hair from the bowl cut his parents had insisted on, but the longest hair there was still clearly that pointy ahoge on the top of his head.

He was one year younger than me. Since the two of us were so close in age and background (well, that specific background,) we'd somehow wound up becoming friends. “You dork!” Mamoru stood up and puffed out his chest, putting his hands on his hips. “I had to run all the way here by myself. Is it a yes or no? What's the sitch?!”

“Calm down, Sagami,” Kenichiro said. “Hitori's gonna be fine. He's just got a sprained ankle. He should keep off of it for a bit, but it's nothing serious.”

With a heaving sigh, Mamoru bent over. “Oh thank god. I don't know what I'd do if you got injured. I'd be bored to tears.”

“Isn't that kind of selfish of you?” I said, and then the two of us laughed together. “What about Ryo? Where is he?”

“Oh!” Mamoru started, and his ahoge shot upwards. “I should go let him know. BRB!” If there was one thing I knew about Mamoru, it was that he was shockingly good at running when he wanted to be.

“You've got a good friend there,” Kenichiro said, as he bandaged my ankle. “A damn good friend. Why, that takes me back to my younger days—”

“Oh, Kenichiro,” I said, laughing and shaking my head.

“Seriously. It's a shame Sagami isn't a girl, or you could have a nice, classic, childhood friends romance later,” Kenichiro said, and I turned red. “Like me.” Then he paused. “Well, I guess I don't know that for **sure**. He could be a girl. Who knows.” I looked away. “What?”

“N-nothing,” I said.

It was a few days later when Mamoru and I got a chance to sit down on a hill outside the facility. He always liked to sneak out to have these sorts of private conversations. “So,” he said, “have you told him yet?”

I shook my head. “I... haven't found the right time yet.”

“Mm, gotcha,” Mamoru said, nodding his head. “Still. I think this is gonna be good for you. I mean, I don't really get what makes someone a boy myself, but you definitely never seemed like a boy.”

That got me to blush. “M-Mamoru...”

“What? Isn't that a good thing, now?” Mamoru blinked.

“W-well, yes, but...” I trailed off. “It's... just embarrassing, is all.” I twiddled my fingers, curling in and crossing my legs.

“I guess I kinda admire that about you,” Mamoru said. He chuckled to himself. “Sometimes I'm not quite sure about myself, either. But... well, I guess I just don't have enough experience to figure myself out or something, yet.” He turned to look at me. “You're really brave.”

“What? Me?” I pointed at myself, then sputtered. “No... no way. I'm a crybaby, you know that.”

“Doesn't mean you're not brave,” Mamoru said. He laughed and leaned back. “Have you thought of a name yet?”

I curled into myself, my mouth being covered by my arms. I looked away before squeaking out, “I was thinking of calling myself... Yuki.”

Mamoru giggled. “Isn't that a little on-the-nose?”

“Hey!” I said, turning much, much brighter red. “Like you have room to talk!” He kept laughing like that for a bit.

—At the time, I didn't know why Mamoru was the one I trusted first with this sort of thing. Maybe I thought Ryo wouldn't quite understand, since he had a hard enough time with words anyhow... well, I suppose I know now.

“Yuki Sawamura...” Mamoru giggled to himself. “Or, wait. I guess it'd probably be Yuki Washizu eventually, huh?”

I blushed, but said, “That'd be nice.”

“It's a nice name,” Mamoru said. He stopped laughing, and gave me an earnest smile. “I'm proud of you, Yuki. I know he'll get it.”

The way it wound up happening wasn't quite what I'd expected. It had started when Dr. Kawashima's face scrunched up at my charts, after she'd taken them, during a physical. With her wild hair and rough manner, she'd always reminded me of a werewolf, so I won't lie and say I wasn't a little spooked. “I-is something wrong?”

Her nose twitched, and then she shook her head. “Bit of a complication. Nothing we can't take care of.”

Kenichiro came in a few days later with some forms in his hands. “Hey, Hitori,” he said, raising his hand to me. I'd been sitting on my bed, watching a recording of a baseball game. “Got a sec?”

“Mm-hm,” I said, and nodded. Kenichiro sat down.

“So... hey. Figured you should know about this,” he said, holding the forms in his hand. “There's a bit of a developmental complication with your body. The doc thinks it might be a result of your body putting too much development on your visual receptors and neglecting a few other places.”

“A developmental...?” I muttered. “Am I sick?”

“Eh. I wouldn't say it's an illness so much as just a condition, and one we can take care of real easily. You're almost 12 now, so ordinarily you'd start going through puberty right about now.” I nodded. “Basically, we're gonna need to help your body do that, because the parts of your body that regulate that aren't fully developed. You're—”

“Can you please be more specific when you're telling me things about my own body?” I sputtered.

Kenichiro chuckled. “Sorry, I was trying to put it easily. Basically, somewhere along the line when you were being developed, your reproductive systems and whatnot had a glitch that meant your body's sexual characteristics aren't fully developed to the degree of a regular male human. Outwardly, it's not obvious, but inwardly you don't have the parts to have your body develop in puberty. It's a condition that's on the spectrum of being intersex.”

I blinked. “Wha...” I'd never heard the term before, but I could gather. “So physically, I'm not entirely male?”

“Something like that. Look, kiddo, I'm not a science whiz. What it means for you is basically just that we're gonna need to put you on hormone supplements. Just some daily meds. We should be able to cover 'em pretty easily, and even when you become an adult, you'll be insured by the government since you're here. No big deal,” Kenichiro said. He smiled at me. “So, I've got some paperwork to do, but there's a little bit you need to work with, just some signatures and yes/no questions.” He handed me a sheet. “Have at it.”

I looked down at the sheets, and it was overall quite simple... but I found myself pausing. The specific supplements hadn't been decided yet, and the request for what _sort_ was in a segment Kenichiro was meant to fill out. I found myself pausing. On Kenichiro's part of the sheet, there was a question that asked what _sort_ of puberty they were prescribing hormones for. Male, or female? “I... can choose?” I blinked.

“Choose what?” Kenichiro asked.

My hand started to shake, and I started filling out the sheet, quiet as a mouse. I couldn't help but be conscious of him looking curiously at me, and the tension inside my chest mounted. Something inside of me had snapped. I had an opportunity here. There was no better time in the universe to come out to Kenichiro, and... 'but what if he isn't sympathetic?' Part of me asked. But... I trusted Kenichiro. More than anything.

I finished, and handed him the sheet. He took it, and looked it over. I sensed his face shift a few times, but when he looked up at me, I couldn't look him in the eyes. I was terrified. “I'm sorry I didn't... I know that's probably not... I... I just...”

Kenichiro was quiet as I began to cry. “I don't... I don't know,” I said. “I was... scared. People tell you your body is going to change, but when I saw boys whose bodies _had_ changed, it... scared me. I didn't want to look like that. That's not how I wanted people to see me. My parents told me I'd just have to grow up eventually, _everyone_ grows up. I was scared. I... b-but... when I saw girls whose bodies had changed... it wasn't nearly as bad. I... admired them. I want to... b-_be_ like them. I want to grow up to look like _that_.”

Then—

“Huh. Yeah, okay, sure,” Kenichiro said. “I'll get that sent in, special for you. No worries.”

Pause.

“Good on you, speaking up,” Kenichiro said, and he smiled. “Bet it wasn't easy.” I shook my head. He grinned. “Want me to buy you a skirt or something?”

I blushed, and began to wave my hands. “Uhh, that's moving a little fast!”

“A-heh-heh-heh. At your own pace, at your own pace,” he said. He reached in to give me a hug, and I acquiesced, falling, still crying a little, into his muscular arms. He was warm. “Good for you. I'm proud of you, sweetie. I'll make sure you can do whatever you need to. Trust me. And... congratulations, I guess.” He laughed to himself. “Both my sons were born sons, I donno what to say at a time like this.”

“I love you, Kenichiro,” I said, burying my head into him. “I love you.”

I could feel his smile in the way he hugged me. “Not to rush you, but do you have a different name picked out or anything? It'd feel weird to call you a boy's name.”

“Well... I was thinking of 'Yuki', actually,” I said.

“That's a lovely name, sweetie,” Kenichiro said. “I love you, too, Yuki.”

* * *

Through a haze of grogginess, my eyes opened up. They opened to see my regular room, not whatever nightmare I'd been stuck in. I heard flitting about, and opened my eyes to see Phanuel and Saori in my room, both discussing something or another.

I was definitely awake enough to clear my throat, which got Phanuel to turn around and say, “Oh, thank goodness! Yuki!”

“Yes?” I mumbled, rubbing my eyes and grabbing my glasses off the nightstand to see clearer. “Why are you two here...?”

“You were tossing and turning in your sleep,” Saori said. “Phanuel said they saw abnormal brainwaves occurring, and whatever you were dreaming about was causing you a lot of mental stress.”

“And, uh, Saori was awake, so I asked her to please come help,” Phanuel said. They turned to Saori. “Why were you awake, again?”

“I suffer from frequent bouts of abnormal wakefulness at night,” Saori said, and Phanuel and I both nodded. “What were you dreaming about?”

“Um...” I blinked. It took a moment, but the images came up pretty clearly. “I was... in my room, but it was broken down and abandoned, and there was some sort of... monster there. Mai was there, too, and she told me to stay quiet, so I did... and then I started dreaming about some other stuff.”

“That'd be when your brainwaves settled down, I guess,” Phanuel said. They crossed their little arms and hummed. “Still, I might have to try and do some nighttime regulation if you're having a nightmare that causes your brainwaves to be actively abnormal.”

“Could it have something to do,” Saori said, “with the decentralization of Yuki's psyche resulting in parts of it appearing in other peoples' areas?”

“It's definitely possible,” Phanuel said. “I'll have to investigate further. It's, ummm... it's about 5:15, so you should probably just wake up now, Yuki. Just try and keep yourself safe, okay?” I nodded, and Phanuel poofed off again, leaving me with Saori.

I was still in my bedclothes, so it felt a little awkward, but then it was Saori, who seemed to walk around everywhere in clothes she was ready to sleep in. “Hi,” I said. “Is there anything else you need?”

Saori paused for a moment. “I actually wanted to talk with you,” she said, and I raised my eyebrow. She came over to sit on my bed, and I won't lie and say that didn't get me to blush.

“Oh, um, of course,” I said, nodding. “What about?”

“Well...” Saori trailed off.

I'm fairly certain at least a whole minute passed in silence.

“Are you transgender?” Saori asked, and I hadn't been drinking, but the coughs I let out had the distinct feeling like I'd just choked on a drink. Saori tilted her head.

“_What?_” I sputtered out, still coughing. “Saori, what?”

“Well,” Saori said, looking down, “'Hitori' is a boy's name. Right? But you're not a boy. I thought maybe—”

“Give me a second,” I begged, and took a moment to catch my breath. In, out, in, out. “Hoo... okay!” I started back up, realized my ahoge was showing, was briefly embarrassed, and then continued, “Well, er, yes. I am. Why do you ask.”

I couldn't have predicted the sheer glee that came to Saori's face when I said that. She leaned in closer and grabbed my hands with a brilliant smile on her face. “That's great!” she said.

“It is?” I asked.

She was shaking my hands. “I've never had a friend my age who was like me before, see, so this is really cool,” Saori sparkled. “I know we're not exactly the same age, but nineteen and twenty-two isn't that big of a difference, I think. Anyway, I'm so glad. I don't really have friends, so my professor tells me I should go find some support groups, but I'm always so busy and if I try I can't really participate.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait,” I said, doing my best to halt Saori's vigorous hand-shaking. “'Like you'?” She nodded. “Oh. Really?” She nodded again. “Oh. Huh, I wouldn't have noticed.”

I'd never seen Saori _excited_ before, so it was a bit of a surprise to me that she could even be excited in the first place. With that said, being the focus of her excitement, I suddenly understood why even the ever-contrarian Zenji never seemed to be able to say no to her. Then, another word came to mind. “Wait, friend?”

Saori stopped in her tracks. “Are we not?”

“I...” I blinked. “I suppose we are, if you think we are. I hadn't really thought about it.”

“It's okay,” Saori said, closing her eyes and nodding slowly. “You have a busy brain.” I couldn't deny it—she'd gotten me in one. “Friends hang out, right? We should hang out more some time.”

I crossed my arms. “We have nothing but time, so that seems fine.” I paused. “May I wake up first, though?”

“Mmhm, of course,” Saori said, standing up and off the bed. “My awakeness is probably going to stop in a few seconds, anyway, I—” Oh, that was immediate. Her eyes immediately started struggling. “Ohp. There it is.”

“Go to sleep, Saori,” I said. I gave her my own smile back now that I wasn't dearly overwhelmed by her energies. “I'll see you in the morning.”

“Yeah,” Saori said. She waved, yawned, and stepped out of my room, and there I was, alone again.

I laid back, and stared at the ceiling. “What makes me feel _safe_?” I blew some of my bangs out of my face and patted where my sword should've been. It was there, this time. That was one thing.

My head craned into the distance, staring at a wall in the direction of Kenichiro's room. Then, I looked back down. “...When are you going to come back, Kenichiro?”

* * *

Aside from Kenichiro, I was the last one to arrive to the morning meeting. Tsukihi and Wataru both looked up, and Wataru raised his hand. “Hey, Yuki. Morning.”

“Morning,” I said, and went to sit down. Ryo smiled at me as I sat down. A few plans were on the table, including artist's renditions of the red and blue beasts, signed with Park's signature. They weren't bad. “Do we have a plan?”

“This isn't the same as the previous stage,” Zoe said, once she and Zenji finished arguing about something or another. “We don't know what's going to happen inside of that house.”

“So,” Bella said, pointing at her gun on the table, “I'll be taking point today, thank you kindly.”

“We've opted to let Bella decide the squad makeup today,” Tsukihi said. I nodded, and gave my assent.

“You think your daddy's coming, Yuki?” Bella asked, and I shook my head. “Darn shame. Well, if I had my druthers I mighta asked him along, but as it stands... well, I'm already bringin' Anzu and Zenji,” she said.

Anzu was practicing swinging her pipe in the corner, and Zenji was inspecting his shovel to make sure it was in working order. I nodded. “And Saori,” Bella said. Saori was cleaning up the map I'd drawn, and looked ever so pleased to be on map duty again. “Now, question. Yukiiii,” she said, craning her head towards me and fixing me with a sweet, motherly gaze, “got your sunscreen on, dear?”

I sighed. “Yes, Bella.”

“Either you or Wataru gets to come too, then,” Bella said. She looked at Wataru. “Got an opinion, sweetheart?”

“I'm not sure how much help I'll be,” Wataru said. He raised his hands. “I haven't gotten to see much of this firsthand, and my investigations wound up a bust. Plus Yuki obviously wants to,” he said, and gestured at me. People nodded their agreement, and I realized with a start how obvious I must've been.

“Okay, I'll take a look at the terminal in the library and see if I can't figure anything out about how it changed,” Minato said. He was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed compared to yesterday, apparently, given the glee with which he talked about the terminal.

“Right,” Wataru said, nodding his head. “You're better at that than I am, for sure.”

“It's my wheelhouse!” Minato said, with a toothy grin.

“Alright,” Wataru said, nodding his head, “the rest of us will keep the peace around here. Hopefully it won't be very eventful. Juri, you mind helping me look at some stuff?”

The blank-faced Juri started to attention upon hearing her name. “Huh what?”

“I mean, you're good at organizing things,” Wataru said. “Right?”

“Uh, I guess, sure,” Juri said. “Sorry. Uh. Spacey.” She waved her hand.

“Happens,” Wataru said with a shrug. He looked up at the clock. “It's about ten. You five have got about eight hours to get in and clear the place, okay? Stay safe and get back.”

With a little giggle, Ryo said, “You're good at this.” Wataru raised his eyebrow.

“It certainly takes a weight off of my shoulders,” Tsukihi said, standing up. “You're a natural, Nishikiyama. I'll continue counting on you in the future.”

That got Wataru to let out a sigh and grimace. “Ah, great.” He put his hands up. “Y'all just go before I get too embarrassed.”

“Aye-aye, Cap'n,” Bella said, giving him a salute.

* * *

“You did a good job with Miss Mapperel,” Saori said, as we rode in the jeep. She nodded to herself. “I'm proud of you.”

“What's with you and the map, anyway?” Anzu asked. (Saori was between us, by the way. Bella was driving today.)

“My professor tells me I should get more hobbies, so I've decided to be enthusiastic about the map,” Saori said.

—I'd been curious to hear Zenji's car singing, but he wasn't doing any. This was likely because of Bella's taste in music. “This cutesy idol shit isn't my style,” he said.

Bella, meanwhile, was over the moon getting to subject people to her taste in music. I can tell you from experience that her singing voice wasn't as good as any of the actual practiced singers in the group, but out of everyone else, she was probably the best. “_Pon, pon, way way way, pon pon way pon way pon pon!_” she sang. “_Way way, pon pon pon, way way pon way pon way way!_”

“What the hell does that even mean?” Anzu and Zenji said in perfect sync.

“Well if you _must_ know,” Bella said, and I inwardly groaned, “the song loses a lotta the meaning without the accompanying music video. Lotta visual puns in this one.”

“Songs that need visuals for the lyrics to make sense are for hacks,” Zenji scoffed. “When I was starting out, I didn't even have any props, I just had to have people feel it from my words. Kids these days don't have any appreciation for—”

“Kyary Pamyu Pamyu's 50, dear,” Bella said. “That song's just one year younger than _you_.”

There was a dead silence as Bella flipped through her music a bit.

“S-shut up,” Zenji sputtered. I couldn't help but laugh, and neither could Saori or Anzu. “Quit laughing at me!”

Thankfully, with the directions I'd been able to record given yesterday's events, it wasn't hard to find the house. The city itself was actually much quieter now, and again the spatial distortion had disappeared. Our destination's driveway was very clean, so pulling up was astonishingly easy. “This the place?” Bella asked, and I nodded.

“Now, I'm not sure what to expect in there,” I advised, as the five of us all filed out of the car. “They were acting friendly, though, so don't attack unless you get attacked first.”

“You sure?” Zenji said, waving his shovel around. “I've got a _pretty good_ track record for killing monsters,” and he smiled for the camera.

“Don't ambush the friendly monsters until they're not friendly anymore, please,” Saori said, and Zenji grumbled out a 'fine, fine' and fell in line.

The five of us formed a single-file line. Bella was in front, then Zenji, Anzu, myself, and Saori. We walked up to the door, and then—Bella knocked. “You're _knocking on the door_?!” Anzu spat.

“It's only polite,” Bella answered, putting her hands on her hips. She put on her public speaking face, though, when the door opened, and the red beast appeared. Zenji obviously started at its appearance.

“_Oh, well there you are!_” the red beast said. “_It took you long enough, didn't it?_”

“Sorry, sorry,” Bella laughed, rubbing the back of her head. “I was fixin' to come in, but a bit of work popped up. You know how it is.”

“_Don't I?_” the red beast answered. (It's worth noting that, here, its voice, aside from a bit of a sound effect, was that of a seemingly ordinary woman—albeit one I did not recognize.) “_Get in here! We've just finished dinner. Bring your friends!_”

Friends were brought, as we all headed inside the house. In stark contrast to the home where we'd first met the beasts, this one, down to its lighting, radiated _warmth_—as soon as I stepped inside, though the outside had been nighttime, the light before my eyes shifted to an inviting, saturated glow that, to my eyes, evoked feelings of nostalgia even though I'd never visited this home.

The front foyer was modestly decorated, with a number of _photos_ present on wall shelves—I was the first to catch those, and I headed over. “Oh, is this a photo of your wedding, ma'am?” I asked, as the red beast chatted away with Bella about something or another.

This wedding photo depicted a medium-height man with a stoic, stern gaze and generally square features and build, with the sort of eyes that never seemed to fully open behind his glasses. To his side was a short, generally fawny-colored woman whose hair, beneath her veil, was in a pair of twintails. “_Oh, yes, don't we look nice there?_” the red beast said, coming over closer to me. Saori poked her head over my shoulder to look. “_Heitaro was so gallant when he was younger—oh, that's my husband, I don't know if she mentioned his name. He really sweeped me off my feet!_”

“You make a beautiful couple,” I said. I looked up at a walkway above, on a second floor. “How long have you been married?”

“_It must be over 20 years now. Oh, what happened that year... Right, right! We got married on the first day of the Reiwa era,_” the red beast said. “_We rang in the new era with a new life together. When I told my mother that, she groaned at me and told me how cheesy it was, but love is love._”

Just to the left of the front foyer was a dining room, seated for ten. Zenji was inspecting it, and looking around at a few china cabinets—most of it was rather modest, though there were a few odd pieces that were finer than the others. Those old pieces also looked, to my amateur eye, to be older than the rest. “_Oh, come on, come on, sit down!_” the red beast said, hurrying off to the next room—a living room, seated with a sofa and a few reclining chairs. “_Introduce me! It's been so long since you brought anyone over._”

Anzu and I wound up getting the sofa together, for some reason. The red paint on the walls and a few more photos guided my eye to a genuine fireplace in the wall, and a TV hanging on the wall in front of the sofa played some light music. I'm not sure how the red beast managed to _sit_, but here we were. “_So_,” the red beast said, “_introduce me to your friends!_”

“Ma'am—” I started.

“_Please, call me Shino,_” the red—I corrected myself. _Shino_ said.

“Well, that one's Yuki,” Bella said, jabbing her thumb at me, and smiling at Shino in that 'oh, I know how they are' way. “Let's say they're kinda like my apprentice or somethin'.”

“What?” I blinked. “Says who?”

“Sweet kid, sweet kid, though they embarrass real easy,” Bella continued, heedless of my question. “Don't mind the sword or nothin', it's wood. They gotta have it or their confidence goes all _titchy_.”

“_Oh, so it's like a teddy bear?_” Somehow, I was aware that Shino was looking at me like she thought that was adorable. I began to sink into my seat.

“The angry teen is Anzu,” Bella continued. “She's got a lotta energy, on account of being student council president _and_ a volleyball player _and_ some kinda punk rock musician scene kid and whatnot. Real spitfire, and a stubborn one, too.” The way she was moving in her chair, now that she wasn't talking about me, I could appreciate her acting—I could hardly even tell how scared she was, and to a layperson it would be a perfect performance.

“I'm not _stubborn_,” Anzu snorted. “Don't patronize me.”

“I ain't patronizing you, I'm just telling it like it is,” Bella said. She pointed to Saori next. “The sleepy one's Saori. She's in college to become a surgeon. Real smart cookie, and has this delightfully childlike sense of wonder.” Saori quietly waved. “And the angry adult is Zenji. He's a damn fine opera singer, I saw him in concert once, see, and I have it on good word he's also a real expert on radish farming. Good with kids, bad with adults, _terrible_ liar.”

“Why is Saori the only one you _don't_ make fun of?!” Zenji threw his hands up.

“Oh, don't get your knickers in a twist, big boy,” Bella snorted. “I'm sure eventually Saori'll give me _somethin'_ to make fun of.”

“I'm not so sure, honestly,” I said. I turned my head to look at her. “She's so earnest, it's hard to find anything to poke fun at. N-not that I would anyway,” I said, a blush rocketing onto my face, “but, you know.”

Shino was giggling this whole time. “_I'm so glad you've gone out and made some friends!_” she said to Bella. “_You seem awfully happy._”

“Aw, shucks, do I?” Bella asked.

“_Hold on, I'll go get started on dinner,_” Shino said, and stood up. “_Feel free to look around!_”

And then we were by ourselves again. As soon as Shino shut the door to head to her kitchen, Bella's entire posture went rigid, and she turned her head to the rest of us, her eyes wide, her teeth gritted. “_Aaaaaaaaa_,” she breathed through her teeth.

“You're a surprisingly good actor,” Anzu said, giving her a cock-eyed grin and leaning back in the sofa.

“I try!” Bella squeaked, standing up. “I—”

“That confirms what I thought,” I said, standing up. “'Heitaro' is a different name. This _is_ a totally different family from the first one. And...” I trailed off, looking down and beginning to pace. “Well...”

“This one _likes_ them,” Anzu said.

“Yeah,” I said, nodding. I pulled the next fragment of the story out of my pocket. “'Humans it could finally come to understand without death, without pain...' We're looking for a 'special person', someone who the Affliction thinks could understand them... I think.”

—Of course, I had a very good idea of who exactly I was trying to find, but I wasn't sure if _they_ did. The five of us stood up, and Bella said, “Now, I might be a titch biased, but I got the feelin' I was _younger_ than these folks. I don't think this 'special person' is a parent, but that's just a hunch.”

“So, what are we doing?” Zenji asked.

“We're finding this 'special person' and the 'first sign of damage',” Anzu said. She looked out the window to the night sky. “If they're not one of the parents, then there's an obvious answer.”

I inwardly sighed in relief, and apparently my smile was obvious, because Saori smiled back at me. “Another child, right?” she said.

“Right,” I said, nodding. “Or... I suppose some other relative who lives here, maybe.”

“Either way, I reckon we oughta find their room,” Bella said. “Just be careful, y'all. Yuki, Anzu, you two go together. Zenji, Saori, you two go together. Y'all should fan out and try to map the house.”

“What about you?” Anzu asked, raising her eyebrow.

“I gotta be in character, don't I?” Bella grinned. “Not that I don't trust Miss Shino or nothin', but I figure it's best if they got me around.”

I blanched, and stared at Bella. “That's _insanely dangerous_,” I said.

“A wiser man than I once said that if you wanna get somethin' done, then you gotta think like a mad genius,” Bella said, and she gave me a toothy grin. “Now, don't y'all worry about little ol' me. I'm a resourceful old bat, and cute as a dickens, to boot.”

“What does that have to do with this?” Zenji said, rolling his eyes and gritting his teeth.

“You'd be surprised, Zenji,” Bella said, raising her finger. “A cute face goes a long way in makin' sure folks treat you nice. Even crazy monsters what think they're happily married human couples! Now, _git_, we're on a time limit here!”

* * *

We <strike>got</strike> <strike>gitted</strike> <strike>git</strike>

_Ring ring, ring ring. “Hey, do we need milk?”_

_ “Yes,” I say. “Bella told us to 'git'. How do I conjugate that into the past tense?”_

_ “What word was that?” My fiancee asks._

_ “'Git',” I say._

_ There's a pause. “Gitted,” she says._

_ “I'm really glad you're around to serve as a second opinion,” I say. “Oh, and while you're in the area, if you see her, could you ask Ageha if she's free tomorrow? I had something I could use her expertise in.”_

_ “Yeah, sure,” my fiancee says. “Could **you** ask Kei if we're still on for that jam session on Sunday?”_

_ “Of course,” I say. “Bye, sweetie. Love you.”_

_ “Love you too,” she says, and hangs up._

We gitted, our two groups splitting up from the living room. Anzu and I followed Bella into a connecting hallway, and then took a right away from the kitchen, where I heard Bella and Shino chatting away. The floor in this hallway was wooden, but not creaky, just pleasantly hard beneath my feet.

A door to the left led to a garage with two cars, and Anzu muttered, “Paging those two car weirdos.”

“Wataru's not a 'weirdo',” I said. “He's a fine man who pays attention to the details of his job.”

“Minato—” Anzu started.

“Total weirdo, I don't know what his deal is,” I agreed. The two of us nodded in solidarity.

This hallway connected to another one on the other side, and as we looked away from the garage, I briefly saw Saori waving to us from the other side before the two of them hustled off out of view. To the side of the garage was a stairwell leading upwards to the second floor, which we took. The overlook from the second level to the bottom gave us a good view of the entrance.

“So,” I said, pointing to the left, “there should be a few rooms over there.” I blinked. “Has the light gotten glowier to you, too?”

Anzu nodded. “Yup.” The glow was becoming warmer as we approached the second floor.

We crossed back past the stairwell to a door that opened to an office. A sturdy desk sat in the center, and devices such as old-fashioned printers, paper shredders, and file folders sat right next to a fairly new computer and a reasonably modern sound system and television hung in the high reaches of the room for the office's owner to watch.

Also, the blue beast was in there. The two of us squeaked, and it—that was, he, probably—looked up. “_Oh? Do we have visitors?_”

Since Anzu was too busy making noises to say anything, I steadied my breathing, put on my politest posture, and said, “Hello, sir. Your wife saw us in. We're friends of...” Oh, shit, oh shit oh shit oh shit. I didn't know for sure what name to say. If I said Bella's name, would he react oddly? I didn't know anything for entirely certain about the age order, so—“er, is she your _eldest_ child? I'm not sure.”

The beast—or, Heitaro, I supposed, probably—took a moment. “_You're highschoolers, right?_”

“I graduated last year, sir,” I said. I looked at Anzu. “She's about to.”

“_Oh, I see, I see._” Heitaro nodded to himself. “_Has she finally started making friends? I keep thinking a girl her age needs to have more friends around her age—or, you know, close enough, right?_” He laughed, and I found myself wondering what on earth age he meant. “_Well, any friend of my kids is a friend of mine. Feel free to look around. I'm Heitaro, by the way._”

“We know,” Anzu said. So, we did. We took a look around the books, and these weren't distorted in any way—the Affliction's memory of Heitaro's library was apparently quite thorough, as some books even had fully legible text from beginning to end. A few of the photos in here weren't clear enough to see any detail, but there were definitely some of him and Shino.

“_She always seems so lonely,_” Heitaro spoke up after a bit more work on his computer. “_It's good she's making friends. How did you two meet, Ms...?_”

He was looking at me. “Orihara, sir. We, er...” I paused. “We met at a support group, actually.”

“_A support group? What for?_” Heitaro asked.

“Unresolved grief,” I said.

Heitaro nodded solemnly... I think. “_Ahhh, because of her parents, right? I understand. It's good she's finding people to get that out about, she always stonewalls me when I ask. Gives me the blank face, you know?_”

“I do, sir,” I said. Then—

For just a moment,

everything went dark and the glow vanished

and the blue beast stood up in its chair and started to move

but then it stopped, and he was back to his seat. “Uh,” Anzu said. “Yuki, we should go find Zenji and Saori.”

“We should,” I agreed. “Thank you for letting us look around, sir.”

“_No problem, no problem. Shino's making her udon hot pot tonight, y'know. It's her specialty. You should stick around,_” Heitaro said.

“We'll consider it,” I said, and we both closed the door.

Pause.

We both turned to look at each other, our frows furrowed and our lips pulled tightly, before Anzu hissed out a, “What the fuck was that.”

“I don't know,” I said. The two of us speed-walked through the hallways up here until we found Zenji, whose hand was on a doorknob, staring at the door and frowning, and Saori, who was behind him updating her map. “Zenji! Saori! Hi. Did you see that?”

“Look,” Zenji said, shoving his thumb at the door in question, which had a few blurred-out posters and stickers on it. “I opened the door and everything went weird. See?” He opened it again—

Oh, sure enough, there it was. “You idiot!” Anzu spat. “Close it!”

“I think that means this is the right door,” Saori said.

“Heitaro said they did have multiple children, and he asked whether we were high schoolers,” I said. “I—”

“You _saw the other one_?” Zenji grunted, turning his head to me and putting his hands on my shoulders. “Are you crazy?!”

“He's in the other room,” I said, gesturing over at the office. “He was right there, you can't miss him.”

Saori looked up from her map, and asked, “Should we go in?”

Anzu snorted. “Unless you wanna wait around for Shino's udon hot pot.”

“I like udon,” Saori said, smiling.

Zenji snorted. “Anyway, aside from here there's a few bedrooms. One for the old folks and one that I couldn't get into. There's also a deck out that way—” He gestured backwards with his thumb.

“I'll go get Bella,” I said.

* * *

I headed to the kitchen to find Bella and Shino in there, sitting around at the table. “Aww, now you're makin' me blush!” Bella said. She wasn't lying, either.

“_Really, I remember when Heitaro first brought you in, you couldn't even muster up a smile. Or anything, really. Now look at you! I feel like I never tell you enough how glad I am to have you around._” Shino laughed to herself. “_Oh, this one's Yuki, right?_”

“Yes, ma'am. Sorry, could I borrow her for a moment?” I asked, and made a gesture with my head at Bella.

“_Of course, of course, I don't want to stop you from spending time with your friends. Tell Heitaro it'll be about fifteen minutes if you're going up there, will you? Oh, and the rest of your friends, too!_” Shino's voice gradually receded from my ears as Bella stood up and started following me.

“I will, ma'am, thank you!” I said.

* * *

—1:21 P.M. Kenichiro Washizu stretched and left his room to find something to eat. He whistled a little tune to himself as he left, putting on whatever casual he needed to put on to fish.

He waved to Zoe, who he saw in the laundry room as he passed. “Hey, Doc. Havin' a good one?”

“Ah, so you're out of your room, are you?” Zoe said. “I'm alright, just concerned. As usual. They've left for that house already. Yuki was among them, as usual.”

“Huh,” Kenichiro said. “Of course they were.”

“Of course they were,” Zoe agreed.

As he passed, Kenichiro came to the atrium, where Ryo was admiring the flowers. “Hey,” he said, coming and standing by Ryo. “You didn't go with?”

Ryo shook his head. “Already had five.”

“Gotcha,” Kenichiro said.

There was a moment of silence as the two pondered the flowers.

“My younger son likes flowers, y'know,” Kenichiro said. “He took his wife to a botanical garden as part of their honeymoon.” Ryo raised his head to look at Kenichiro. “Yeah. It was real nice, I saw a bunch of photos. He was real proud.”

“Mm,” Ryo mumbled, nodding his head.

There was another moment of silence,

and then Ryo started _humming_ to himself.

And then Kenichiro started humming along. Ryo stopped in surprise, and then Kenichiro said, “What? I like that song.”

Ryo blinked. “Y-you... song, iris, you—?”

“Huh? Yeah, I know that song,” Kenichiro snorted. “I'm more surprised you do, that's before your time. How'd you find that one?” Ryo grasped at a sheet of music folded up in his pocket, and showed it to Kenichiro. “Yeah, it's this one. How'd you find it?”

A moment later, Ryo had dragged Kenichiro over to Zoe, showed her the sheet of music, and pointed at Kenichiro. Zoe blinked in confusion for a second before her eyes widened. “Wait, you know that song?”

“Is this important or something?” Kenichiro asked.

“Argh, you moron!” Zoe spat. Her face twitched. “This is the song that that clock tower out there has been playing when it rings! None of the rest of us recognize it!”

“Wait,” Kenichiro said, holding up his hands, “what? The clock tower out _there_ is playing it?”

“Yes!” Zoe shouted, as Kenichiro turned on his heels and walked quickly to the outside to take a look at the stage from afar. He saw the same thing everyone else did—the clock tower and the massive tree.

* * *

When we entered the room upstairs, the lights shut off again, and the glow disappeared. We didn't have time to ponder that, though, so Zenji shoved the door wide open, and we stepped inside.

The room inside was dark, horribly dark, with just a few pieces of something or another on the floor illuminated by its only light—a blindingly white computer screen sitting at the far end, giving a faint hiss of static. I took a few steps forward toward the computer, and it flashed up a question.

“_You're acting kinda weird... Are you sure you shouldn't go to bed?_”

“Huh...?” I muttered. It was then that I realized just how _cold_ it was in here—the sight of a puff of my own breath caused that. Anzu and Bella came up beside me, and I saw Bella had taken off her cardigan and put it on Anzu.

“_Hey. Don't say anything you'll **regret**, okay?_”

“You know what that means, sweetheart?” Bella asked me, and I heard Zenji and Saori shuffle up behind me, too. I shook my head. “Uh... anyone else?” Everyone else shook their heads, too.

“_Let's just go home, it's cold out here._”

I took another step forward. “What... are you talking about?”

And then—

“_I can see time..._”

The clock tower began to ring,

and the room began to shake.

“What did you do?!” Zenji shouted, moving to defend Saori in the case of falling debris—but nothing fell in their direction. Instead, the wall behind the computer fell flat onto—the hill of the tree, where the tree was suddenly much smaller, the size of a regular tree, and we were right in front of it!

I ran forward, and the other four followed me. There was no escape, though—a cold fog began to roll in to the sides of the hill, and knowing this place by now, that probably meant there was no way forward but up to the top of the hill. And then—

_Bang! Bang!_

As I looked behind me, a bit down the hill to where we'd left, I saw the wall of the room beginning to break open, and Heitaro—no, the blue beast, was the one doing it. Both beasts were beginning to advance on us.

Zenji ran toward the fog, but as he did, he _wrapped_ around to the other side, finding himself on the other end of the pathway. “What the hell?!” He clicked his tongue. “Where do we go?”

“This must be where we solve the puzzle!” Anzu said. “We've probably gotta do something with the tree!”

“What should we do with the tree?” Saori asked, beginning to sweat.

“_I don't know!_” Anzu yelled. “Shit, uh—” Looking back, the now-dark room had a goodly amount of furniture in it now, but we didn't have time to register it. “Zenji, Bella, help me block it for a bit!”

I ran up to help, as well, and did what I could to bar the hole the blue beast was making, as well as the door. The pounding became ever louder, though, and I saw the red beast's tentacles beginning to encroach, too. “Uhhh, maybe it has something to do with what the computer said,” Zenji said. “What, uh, what does this person 'regret' saying?”

“I don't know!” I said. “That's what I've been trying to figure out this whole time, is what happens _here_! I moved too fast, I'm sorry—”

“It's not _your_ fault!” Bella said. “All I heard don't amount to a hill of beans—_guh_!” An impact knocked Bella flat onto the ground.

“Look, okay,” Anzu said, taking Bella's position, “so what's this stage about?”

“Uhh, um,” I mumbled, “okay, so this seems like it's about a number of families the sinner has had, or something like that.”

“Okay, and what's the problem?” Anzu said, turning her head to look me in the eyes.

“I think... well—”

The clock tower finished ringing. “It's midnight!” Saori shouted. “Twenty-four rings!”

“Okay,” I said, “that means this is the end of the story. Right? This happened most recently. This is it, this is the last thing. Whatever happens here, the...” I took a deep breath in. “Whatever happens here, the Affliction regrets it terribly. They think it's part of their 'nature', and that must have something to do with these families, but...”

My mind was whirling at an incredible speed, and none of what I was thinking about could come together. I was sweating, and beginning to hyperventilate. “No, no, no... come on, this has to come together! I can figure this out!” I grasped my head. “Stupid Yuki, stupid Yuki, come on, figure it out!”

“Beating yourself up about it isn't gonna help!” Anzu said, just before she narrowly dodged an attack that broke down the bookshelf she'd been holding. The blue beast could float clearly through the hole now, and Anzu could only back away on the ground before getting up and running out of the room. “We're gonna have to make a stand for it!”

“Shit!” Zenji spat, running back onto the hill and brandishing his shovel. Bella, Zenji, Anzu, and I took up position. “Okay, uhhh, where do we hit it to kill it?”

“I don't know,” I said. “I don't know if they can die, but this is the only choice we have.”

“Sorry about this, ma'am,” Bella said, readying her gun, “but I ain't gonna let these kids die here tonight.”

“Kids?” Zenji scoffed. “I'm thirty-three!”

“I didn't mean _you_,” Bella shot back, “I meant _them_! You can handle yourself!”

“And _they_ can't?” Zenji said.

“Will you two _shut up_?!” Anzu yelled, and the two of them did so.

“Umm... I'm hungry,” Saori said to the tree. “I really, uh... I have to go to the bathroom?”

The blue beast began to advance up the hill, and the red beast slithered in through the door and began its advance as well. I did my best to steady my breath, and muttered to myself, “'A woman of Orihara does not back down. She stands her ground, firm and resolute, never wavering.'”

“What's that?” Bella asked.

In, out. “Something my mother told me, once.”

And then—

The first blow was struck,

but it wasn't by the blue beast or the red beast,

or me,

or Anzu, or Zenji, or Bella,

and it wasn't even Saori.

The red beast recoiled as the blow from a hammer struck it from behind, and a yell of “Outta the way, Onion Lady!” signaled the arrival of a sixth participant. And certainly, he was a bit out of shape, and he wasn't quite so gallant as he was before,

but as his jacket fluttered in the breeze, and he charged forward, there was no way I wouldn't recognize Kenichiro Washizu. “Kenichiro?!” I shouted.

Kenichiro nodded to me as he started running up the hill, but didn't say anything until the blue beast took a swing at him. His old instincts kicked in, and he ducked out of the way before swinging upward, redirecting the blue beast's attack and throwing it off balance. Its air jet sputtered as it attempted to regain its balance, but Kenichiro was long gone, running directly toward us. I could tell his breathing was a bit heavy, but his body was exerting an incredible amount of energy—even when I was a child, I'd never seen him run quite this fast.

“Old man—?!” Anzu sputtered, but Kenichiro didn't answer. Instead, he barreled past us, and past Saori, up to the tree.

“Um, hello,” Saori said, as Kenichiro gingerly moved her out of the way before turning perpendicularly to the tree, placing his hammer down and going rigid. I could hear the blue beast's jet rekindle itself, and the beasts were rapidly advancing up the hill again, now angered by Kenichiro's attack.

Kenichiro, though, wasn't worried. He cleared his throat, smirked, said, “Here goes,” and then he took a deep breath in and yelled,

“_**I LOVE YOU!**_”

And everything went so silent that I swear the blue beast even stopped propelling itself for a moment.

“I love you! That's the truth. I can't keep it inside anymore!” Kenichiro shook his head, his fists balled, talking to nobody. “I never thought I'd meet someone who understands me as well as you do, not in a million years, but here you are! I want us to be official—an _item_! I wanna take you to meet my parents again and say 'hey guess what, we're _dating_' and watch them balk because they thought a wacko like me would never find a girlfriend so early! Please...” Kenichiro said, getting to his knees, looking up hopefully. “Please. I love you. I really do. I wanna change the world together with you.”

And when I turned around,

the blue beast, roaring once more, shoved its arm into the red beast again,

and that red liquid started to spray as the red beast's tentacles came up to wrap the blue beast tightly, squeezing it, squeezing, squeezing,

and then they both fell together into the ground,

but this time they didn't disappear.

They squirmed and writhed and bled,

and then vanished, wasted away, just as the first beast had.

And all—

was silent.

In an instant, the sun moved forward. It was daytime, and the curse was broken. The tree remained at the smaller size, but that house we'd came from disappeared, leaving the jeep and what looked like Wataru's car at the bottom of the hill. Everything was peaceful, and quiet.

The fog disappeared, too, so there was no longer anything trapping us here. Kenichiro stood up, cleared his throat, and exclaimed to the sky, “_Damn_, I'm good!” He gave a boisterous laugh.

As the tension exited my body, I slumped for just a moment before running up the hill, tears in my eyes, to tackle Kenichiro with a leaping hug. “Whoa-ho there, hold on, not as spry as I used to be!” Kenichiro chuckled.

“You saved us!” I said into his chest. “You saved us—you saved us! Kenichiro, I—you _are_ still a hero!”

“What, I've gotta be a hero to come save my cute little daughter and their friends?” Kenichiro said, ruffling my hair. “C'mon, now. Let me pretend I'm a bad guy for a second! Don't want the compliments to get to my head.”

“Shut up!” I sobbed, getting his shirt a little wet. “I didn't think you were going to come out, but... but you did, and now you're _here_, and...”

Kenichiro knelt down to face me, like he'd always done when I was a child—but of course I was taller now, so it looked a little silly. The other four came up to see us, too, as he said, “I'm sorry, Yuki.” He sighed, and his voice was heavy. “I was... irresponsible. I shouldn't have let you just go off like that, without helping. We're all in this together, right?”

“Yeah, we... we are,” I said, sniffling a little. The sun was downright blinding compared to the night from just a moment before.

“I'm scared, sure,” Kenichiro said, looking down. Then, he looked back up. “But I'm more scared of leaving you alone. I want to work with you and the rest of these wackos from now on, _properly_. Okay? You and me, we're a team. I'm not gonna leave you again, I promise.”

“You promise?” I repeated.

“I just said I did, you goob.” Kenichiro held me a little tighter. “You did good, Yuki. I'm glad I made it in time.” I couldn't help but notice the relief in his breathing, which made me curl a little closer into him.

“Okay, not to interrupt this little moment,” Zenji said, “but what the fuck just happened?”

The two of us stood up as Bella added, “That was a right nice performance, Kenny, but you really lost me there.”

“Ah, well, see, I was reenacting the way I confessed my love to my high school girlfriend.” Kenichiro grinned. “Real nice, wasn't it?”

“You actually remember the exact words?” Anzu said, raising her eyebrow very hard at him.

“Wrote 'em down. Still keep 'em around. Reminds me of before the divorce, heh-heh,” Kenichiro said with a wink.

As we all began to walk down, Kenichiro said, “It was that song. I came out and I heard Ryo humming it, and when I started humming along he and Zoe got all wide-eyed and said nobody else recognized it. They told me where you guys went, so I bustled down, borrowed Wataru's car and hit the gas—”

“Did you ask to borrow his car?” Saori asked.

“Uh, no?” Kenichiro said.

“That's stealing,” Saori said, with a firm nod. “You stole his car.”

“Wait, you actually _recognized the song_?” Zenji said, his eyes wide, freezing in his tracks. He made a very silly face, and I wish I could properly describe it, because it was hilarious in the moment.

“I coulda done it earlier if I hadn't been holed up in my room. I'd never forget it,” Kenichiro said, shaking his head. “Back when I was a kid, y'know, I'd pass by a concert venue in my hometown and people would be singing along! It was real popular. Before you guys's time, though, I guess.”

“Well, don't leave us hangin', Kenny, what's the darn song?” Bella asked.

Kenichiro cleared his throat again, and began to sing.

“_Anata ni aete... honto-o ni... shiawase kanjiteru..._ Buh duh duh dada, duh duh dada,”

and then he killed the moment by beginning to scat along to the melody of the song, well past where we'd heard from the clock tower. He laughed to himself, and then said, “It's Noda Junko's 'Anata ni Aete'. It's the song that plays in the credits from this game called _Tokimeki Memorial 2_.”

“Oh, I played a few of those!” Bella said, pumping her fists. “'Cept, I just played the ones where you dated boys, on account of they were the only ones in English, see.”

“Really?” Kenichiro blinked, and Bella nodded. “Weird.”

“I recognize the name, too,” I said. “Isn't that that game you had in your room? The romance game?”

“Yup,” Kenichiro said, and he turned around toward the tree. “See, the whole plot of the series is, you're a new high school student and there's this legend that if a couple confesses their love to each other under the school's Legendary Tree, they'll stay together forever. So you've gotta live through three years and try and get a girlfriend along the way.”

He turned around, then, and pointed to the clock tower. “The clock tower's from it, too. 2's in a different school, so it's got a clock tower instead of a tree. Well, the tree's still there if you date this one girl 'cause she goes to the old school, but that route's all weird, 'cause they're twins and they pretend to be each other as some kinda weird prank... anyway,” he waved his hand, “so as soon as I saw that tree and heard the song, I knew that had to be it. There's nothing else you'd do with a big ol' tree when that song's playing.”

“Wow,” I said. “It was really that memorable?”

“I loved the games. It gave me the confidence to confess to her, y'know. She got all weepy, and then she said she loved me too, and then we were inseperable. We got married, we had kids...” I saw a small tear come to Kenichiro's eye, but he blinked it away. “Those were some great days. She really would've loved you, Yuki. Wish I coulda introduced you two.”

Then, Anzu stopped. “Wait, so you recognized the song and nobody else did, and we just reenacted your confession to your high school sweetheart?”

Kenichiro stopped, too, and looked up at the sky. “Oh, huh. That is kinda suspicious, isn't it.” He laughed. “Well, it ain't me. You can check my records if you want—I only ever had one set of parents.”

I shook my head. “No, Anzu, it isn't Kenichiro. The Affliction did recognize this song, they just lied.”

“If it wasn't him, then I figured,” Anzu said, shrugging. “I’ve got a hunch, anyhow.”

“Well, the logical thinking part ain't my strong suit,” Kenichiro said, raising his hand as he got into Wataru's car to go return it from being stolen. “You're the smart one here, Yuki. You've got it, right?”

After a moment to breathe in deep, I said, “Yes, I do.” I nodded. “Let's go home. We have a round to conclude.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whose love, and for whom? Who is the Lonesome Affliction? What is it that they regret so much? If you've been playing along, maybe you've figured it out. If you haven't, though, that's okay- it's also fine to follow along without playing. The end of the round is next. Let's come to understand each other more.


	27. Nameless Samurai, Final ~ Absolute Terror Field

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics used in this chapter are the original verse written by Hideaki Anno, for what would become the song "Komm, susser Tod", sung by Arianna and composed by Shiro Sagisu.

I'd requested Kenichiro go grab Minato from the library as he drove back, so that accounted for seven people. As we returned to the garage, we found Juri idly wandering around in the basement, flipping her photo of her and Sachi out and staring at it intermittently.

“Juri,” I said, clearing my throat.

The shriek Juri let out when I did so was pretty loud, as was the motion she made as she turned on her heel to face me—she wound up in an almost cartoonish pose. “Y-you're back already?!”

“Howdy!” Bella raised a hand. The other three had headed off to start rounding up the remaining five. She smiled brightly, waving at Juri. “Made great time, didn't we?”

Juri snapped into a rigid posture. “Uh, you sure did,” she said. It's worth mentioning that Juri, at the moment, was wearing her see-through glasses, so I could see her eyes. They weren't looking directly at either Bella or myself. “I, uh, I didn't expect you back so fast. Yup. Good job? How'd it... uh, go—uh, how'd you know I was down here, anyway?”

Bella shrugged. “Hunch o' mine. Call it a belle's intuition.”

“Always with you, I swear,” Juri said, putting on that teeth-on-lip grimace she liked so much. “What is it about the legendary adventures of Juri Sonohara, age 24, that keeps bringing you people to me? Certainly there's no physical appeal, normies like yourselves could do a lot better—”

“Juri Sonohara, you are a good person,” I said.

Pause. Juri's face went completely blank. “For mecha tidbits, maybe. I've been having a hankering to rewatch _Dunbine_ lately, actually—”

“I'll watch it with you,” Bella said, with a totally earnest smile.

Another pause.

“Oh,” Juri said. “D-do you even know what Dunbine is?”

“Nope,” Bella said, her smile shifting to a grin. “But if you like it, I'm sure it's good. You've got them discerning tastes, and all. Plus I like talkin' to you.”

This conversation was very stop and start.

“Uh,” Juri said.

Stop. Start.

“Well,” Juri said.

Stop. Start.

“I'll leave you two to discuss that, but please come up to the top floor before long,” I said, and walked past a still-sputtering Juri.

Going up the stairs, I found Anzu between Ryo and Zoe, having a pow-wow in the foyer. Ryo lit up when he saw me, and called my name. “Yuki!”

“Hello, Ryo,” I said, when Ryo came up to me to hug me. “And you too, Zoe. Has Anzu filled you in?”

“Much as the situation gives me a conniption to think about,” Zoe said with a belaboured sigh, “I am proud of you all for getting the whole situation clear.” She snorted, and gave an _actual_ one-sided smirk. “I'm sure Tsukihi will scarcely believe Mr. Washizu coming through.” She turned her head to Anzu. “...What _is_ her problem with him?”

Anzu shrugged. “Search me.”

Up on the next floor, I found Zenji and Saori with Wataru and Park, who were looking through some books. “Hey, Yuki!” Wataru called from his position at a table, raising his hand. “I hear your dad stole my car?”

“It was stealing,” Saori said with a firm nod.

“I'm sure Kenichiro feels very guilty, and I'll make sure he repays you as is appropriate,” I said. Park was quite busy adjusting his lapel and attempting to keep his sweat down, so I added, “And Park, you have nothing to worry about!”

Park's words eventually managed to stumble out of his mouth. “Just _hearing_ about these things makes me worry but I respect your statement and have committed it to memory, thank you, Yuki!”

Finally, on the top floor, I passed by the elevator. If she wasn't anywhere around, I had a feeling she'd be in there, so I knocked on the door of Tsukihi's personal room. It was at this point that I learned that one of Tsukihi's skills was the ability to open a door, speed out of it, and close a door without someone being able to see anything inside the room aside from a bit of lighting. “Yuki,” Tsukihi said, composed as ever. “You're back. Are we about to commence?”

I nodded. “We are. Kenichiro should be getting back with Minato any moment.” I couldn't help but smile. “You're not gonna _believe_ what happened out there.”

“You'd be surprised. I can believe quite a lot,” Tsukihi said, crossing her arms. “You're making fun of me, aren't you.”

“Maybe a little,” I said, giggling under my breath.

People began to file into the elevator room, and coming up the stairs last once the other eleven had gathered were Minato and Kenichiro. Entering the room with a grimace and a loud shrug, Minato said, “I got nothing. Whatever happened to that terminal, it's way past me to fix. Sorry, all.”

“Eh, who needs computers?” Kenichiro said, his hands in his pockets, a goofily proud grin still stuck on his face. He removed one hand from his pocket to give Minato a pat on the shoulder. “All we need is hard work and guts! I—”

Tsukihi, Kenichiro. Kenichiro, Tsukihi. “You're acting oddly gregarious,” Tsukihi said, her eyes narrowing.

“Consider yourself lucky, Mrs. Itagaki,” Kenichiro said with a little laugh, “for the magnanimous Kenichiro Washizu has undergone character development and has opted to join the party.” He gave a sly, two-fingered salute.

“Really,” Tsukihi said.

“He did a lot more than you did,” Anzu commented from the other side of the room.

“Like stealing Wataru's car,” Saori said, and that got Tsukihi's eyes to widen and a near-comical frown to affix itself upon her face.

Wataru raised his hand to cut in and say, “Hey, just so we're clear, he needed it and I didn't mind or anything.”

“I just think everyone should know that what he did was stealing, and not borrowing. He said 'borrowing', and that was wrong,” Saori said. She nodded to herself. “It's important for words to mean things.”

“Yup, that's right,” Kenichiro said. “I committed the cool crime of robbery, and am now a cool crime guy. As they say in the business, Be Dad, Do Crimes.” He paused, and his smile immediately shifted into a stony frown. “Hey, Ryo, don't actually do crimes. I'm kidding.” Ryo nodded. “Thanks. Good kid. Goes for you too, Little Red.”

“'Little Red'?” When Tsukihi saw that Kenichiro was addressing Anzu, she raised her eyebrow (and Anzu herself was a little confused.)

“The shorter of the two reds,” Kenichiro said with a roll of the eyes, “is this really so hard to understand?”

“If people need to have your nickname explained, it doesn't seem like it's a very good nickname,” said Zoe, who was standing near the entrance of the room, catching Kenichiro off guard by speaking from behind him. “I will admit, though, that I am a touch _biased_. You see, back in middle school and high school, people always called me 'Smiles'. I didn't like it and never have, but it caught on because people would rather refer to me by an easily recognizable feature than my actual name. Consider, then, how it might feel if this 'Little Red' nickname were to catch on. You'd be dooming Anzu to a period of time where she was referred to only in comparison to her mother, the _Big Red_—and knowing how Anzu feels about her mother and particularly being compared to her mother, that would probably be deleterious to her emotional state and, most likely, her opinion of you for starting this in the first place.”

When Zoe closed her mouth, the room went dead silent.

“Alright, I've vented _my_ anger at you for wasting our time for two days while you sat in your room playing Final Fantasy,” Zoe continued, letting out a breath and smiling. “Congratulations on your character development, Kenichiro. I'm sure it'll serve you well.”

“Haha, uh... thanks...” Kenichiro began to inch backwards, retreating into a safer zone where he felt like he still had any power left.

Thankfully for all of us, Zenji took the initiative and hit the button to call for the elevator and end the round. Phanuel poofed into existence in front of the elevator, and Zenji said, “Hey, pipsqueak, nearly died again. How's it with you?”

Phanuel's face was as screwed up as they could manage to do it, their head tilted with a concerned expression, their arms crossed. “It's okay, I'm just really confused lately.”

“Well, I reckon that's normal for any growin' child,” Bella said. She grinned, nodded to herself, put her hands on her hips, and say, “You wake up one day and 'god, tell me, what's this thing I'm in, and lordy me how do I make it clean? What's it doing to me?! Nobody went and told me I was fixin' to become a circus freak and I don't like it one bit!'”

“I—” Zenji turned his head to Bella, then to Saori, grimacing. “D-do girls have it that hard?”

“You didn't ask me,” Minato said, putting his hands behind his head, “but I remember that part of puberty! Heh.” He closed his eyes and nodded his head, as though remembering a fond, nostalgic memory. “I woke up screaming every night when I had my first period.”

Pause.

“Uhh, whoa,” Wataru said, his face blank. “That's, uh, that's rough.”

Tsukihi groaned, her head in her hands. “There's a child in the room.” Sure enough, Ryo looked more than a little stunned by the candid details of things that might be occurring to his body.

—I got into the elevator first, and I think people noticed I'd done so. From my corner, I stared at the backs of all of their heads as they got into the elevator and turned toward its door. It rose, and rose, and rose again, and the hum of its motion vibrated through my body as I leaned against the wall.

It was hard not to remember—

what had happened last time.

The others were probably also afraid of that. Well, Wataru wasn't—he was totally cool and stoic, unafraid of a possible death. But all I could do was believe what I'd seen of us. The thirteen of us, we thirteen sinners—at heart, none of us were killers. That vote—none of us had put it forth. I believed that.

“Everyone,” Wataru said, as we were rising, “I had an idea. If you get selected to vote, after you vote, raise your hand. Just keep it raised until everyone sees you.”

“Why?” Ryo asked.

“That way, we'll eventually be able to prove that none of us logged that vote. Like you two said, right? Tsukihi, Yuki?” Wataru said.

—I couldn't help but chuckle. It was like he'd read my mind. “That's a good plan,” I said. “We've already proven three people couldn't have done it, and we all agreed to vote Exonerate.” (Kenichiro had to lean over to Saori and ask for a reminder of what that meant.) “Eventually, all thirteen of us will _have_ to be clear of it. After all, nobody here was the one who logged that vote.”

“You sure someone didn't just flip out and get too guilty to admit it?” Zenji said.

“It was far too perfect for Nagisa's supposed aims,” Tsukihi said. “A direct demonstration of that three-way tie rule of hers that didn't result in an actual death, but allowed her to come across as willing to kill? It's far too convenient.”

“Well, if we think that,” Minato said, “then what's the point of raising our hands?”

I had to take a moment to compose a response, but Park spoke up first. “It will prove that we can trust each other,” he said, and I heard his voice swell just a little bit. “That... we aren't going to leave anyone behind. We're all going to get through this, together. Er, or, um...” I sensed him start to twiddle his fingers. “That's what I think, anyhow.”

“I like that, Park,” Wataru said. “Nobody's dying on my watch. That's a promise.”

Juri scoffed. “People saying things like that are always the ones who die first.”

“Aw, c'mon,” Wataru said with a chuckle. “I already had one near-death experience. Let me be a bit corny.”

“You had quite a tumultuous ride to get here,” Nagisa said, her voice emanating from above us, “but it's time to unmask the sinner. Do any of you need a reminder on the rules?”

Silence.

“Have a nice discussion, then,” Nagisa said.

* * *

The thirteen of us sat in a circle once again. I cleared my throat. “I feel as though I should say that I've known who the subject of this stage was for some time now,” I said. I folded my hands. “However, I didn't really know what it was that they were quite so ashamed of. I had ideas, but my thinking only solidified recently.”

—The room was silent, and eleven heads turned to listen to me. “Before we begin, I'd also like to say something, before we've all turned to face them. This culprit's view of themself is distorted. It's understandable they wouldn't want to say anything, and if I held the same beliefs about myself as they do, I wouldn't want to say anything either.”

“Which are?” Anzu asked.

“The 'affliction' in this story is simple. This culprit believes they are a _serial homewrecker_—someone whose presence destroys relationships through existing. They've lost several homes, and have come to believe that they are the problem. I believe they deserve our sympathy, not our scorn,” I said. “After all, I've come to know them, and I believe in them.”

I took a deep breath, and then continued. “First, I'd like to discuss people who can be ruled out logically through the stage's events. This stage concerned an individual with multiple sets of parents. First of all, it obviously isn't Wataru, even if he wasn't exempt.”

“I'd have a pretty complicated backstory if I had all that _and_ the stuff we found,” Wataru said, with an affirmative nod.

“As for me, I've had multiple sets of parents. However, even if Phanuel hadn't accidentally let slip that it certainly wasn't me, it's definitively provable through legal records that I've never had parents with the same names as the ones found in the stage,” I said. “Not to mention one of my parents happens to be right here.”

“Yeah, that sure ain't any house I ever saw in Yuki's records,” Kenichiro said.

“Speaking of Kenichiro, I can also definitely say it isn't him. For one thing, he can't play a musical instrument to save his life—however, more importantly, Kenichiro only ever had one set of parents. Specifically, his biological parents. I recall him mentioning that his father passed a few years ago, too, and the technology in the final home was modern enough to place it _after_ that point,” I said.

“I'm sorry to hear that,” Saori said.

“Ehh, it's fine.” Kenichiro winked. “I went through my grief.”

“I can also say that it isn't Ryo or Anzu,” I said. “In Anzu's case, it's obvious—her biological mother is right here, and I think we're all clear that Anzu's never had a father. As for Ryo, I'm told his biological parents perished early, and our shared backstory would've come up in the stage were it him. Not to mention, his mother's name is Etsuko, and I have a shockingly hard time imagining her being married... and I would've recognized her voice, it's very recognizable.”

Ryo nodded in agreement. “Mom growls.”

“Minato mentioned that it's been eight years since he spoke to his father,” I said, and that got Minato to wince and grimace, “so it's likely not him. Zenji's father perished in the Opera House Massacre, and he's spent ten years trying poorly to hide his own heritage, so I doubt he'd have gone out to go get adopted. And, this is patently obvious, but all of those people were _Japanese_. Heitaro would be an awfully strange nickname for a man named... it's Walt, right?”

Bella nodded. “I'm the only one what's allowed to call him Walter. And only when I'm kiddin' around.” She proudly huffed her chest.

“So, eight of us can be logically removed from the running,” I said. “From there, I've got a number of pieces of circumstantial evidence before I get to what I believe to be the, shall we say, 'smoking gun'.” I cleared my throat again. “So, first, I'll move onto that.”

“The symbolism in the stage included a clock tower and a giant tree, and the 'final step' of the puzzle was confessing love underneath the tree,” I said, and I realized Tsukihi hadn't gotten the memo, because she looked very confused. “Really. Kenichiro charged in to save the day by reenacting his confession to his ex-wife. As it turns out, that song we've been hearing is a fairly famous song from his childhood—a song from an old game on his Playstation _1_, that gave him the confidence to confess.”

“Ahh,” Tsukihi said. She nodded. “As far back as I can remember, the Playstation _2_ was the newest.”

“It's called 'Tokimeki Memorial',” Kenichiro said, “and the last main game in the series came out all the way back in 2009. That stuff Yuki just mentioned is from that series.” He rubbed his chin. “No way that's not intentional.”

“So, our culprit would need to be someone who was sufficiently invested in older media to be intimately familiar with media from Kenichiro's childhood, which was before the turn of the millennium,” I said. “Another point is that, in the first house we visited, the diary of the red beast mentioned her child having a predisposition for music, and in fact, there was a _keyboard_ in the house. While I personally observed the culprit having a keyboard in their room, that didn't prove anything, as other people could have the same hobby.”

“Similarly, there are several circumstantial points regarding the culprit's behavior that led me to suspect them. In particular, their reaction to the appearance of the blue and red beasts, while reasonable in terms of being terrified, did contain some unusual pieces—but that, again, is circumstantial, and private between me and them, for that matter, so I won't elaborate further,” I said.

“But, there's one very provable point, one that, for me, absolutely cemented my suspicion,” I continued. “In the second stage, due to the interruptions caused by my psyche, the stage left its regular rails. However, somehow, we managed to clear it _anyway_. This success occurred when Park, Ryo, and I were rescued from underneath a pile of rubble.”

I paused. “I don't get it,” Zenji said.

“It's understandable you wouldn't remember,” I said. “It was a bit of an off-hand comment, and I myself only remembered as we were driving to inspect the final house. However, Kenichiro—you were the one who mentioned it. During the Opera House Massacre, you mentioned that you'd heard that a teenager was recovered from underneath the rubble at the opera house, after the fire.”

“Right, right,” Kenichiro said, with a solemn nod. “Right. Pretty much the only survivor they found after the fact. And—” He paused, and then turned his head to the one person who hadn't been looking at me to begin with, a person right next to him. “—it was you, wasn't it? Right?”

She wouldn't respond, her face stony and blank, so I answered for her. “That's right. That teenager was Juri Sonohara. She said as much herself.” Twelve heads now focused on Juri, who sat, utterly still. “Well?”

“Well, what?” Juri said, her voice low and quiet.

“Well,” I said, “I can keep going.”

“You're not _done_?” Juri responded.

“I'm sorry,” I said. “If we were in any other kind of situation, I wouldn't be saying any of this. I don't think you deserve to have your past waved in your face like this. But—I want to come to understand you, Juri. I really do.”

“Shut up,” Juri said. “Don't lie to me.”

—The sound of her voice was angered, but her face didn't move. “I don't know what it was all like for you, but I can sympathize... with growing up a neurodivergent child,” I said. “What you went through wasn't your fault—”

“_Yes, it was!_”

—She was shouting, but her face didn't move. Neither did she. She was looking down and away from me. “Why won't you just leave me alone?! I'm not a good person! If it wasn't for _me_, Mom and Dad wouldn't have gotten divorced—or died—or—or killed each other—” Juri's voice was starting to crack, and tears were coming to her eyes, but her face still wasn't moving. “Don't _lie to me_! You hate me! I know you do! You think I'm disgusting, right?! _Right?!_”

“I don't think that,” Bella said.

Juri's nascent sobs halted before they could really begin. “Huh?”

“I like talkin' to you,” Bella said. She gave Juri her most sympathetic gaze, her own eyes glistening with the beginning of tears, even if Juri couldn't see her with her head lowered. “I think you oughta give yourself a chance, sweetheart.”

The room went quiet, and then Juri said, “It was because of my face, wasn't it?”

“That only became relevant today,” I said. “Both of your parents—your current parents—mentioned it. Juri—It's okay. I know.”

“I knew I wasn't good enough to pretend forever,” Juri said. “I just didn't think I was gonna get found out by Trucy Wright.” Kenichiro couldn't help but chuckle.

I smiled a little, and then shook my head. “I don't understand that reference.”

“As soon as I say it out loud—I know everyone's going to think I'm disgusting,” Juri said. “You can say all you want, but everyone here is going to want me gone.”

“I already know,” I said, “and I don't.”

“Well—”

“Then think of it like this,” Zoe said, crossing her arms and legs, and leaning back in her seat. “Think of it like a trip to the doctor. You and I have shared drinks, Juri. We're here to try and help you.”

“Ugh, who signed me on for emotional support duty?” Zenji groaned, his frail masculinity unprepared for such a task.

“If you'd like, you can stand over there and be a stress ball for if she needs to punch something,” Zoe said, whipping her head around to snarl at Zenji. “Now, do be quiet, Mr. Fuyutsuki. The adults are speaking.”

“It's gonna be okay, Juri,” Wataru said. He smiled, and leaned forward, clasping his hands together. “Let's just talk. Okay?”

“You're all... ridiculous,” Juri said. With a wring of her head, she grunted. “Fine. Fine, I'll do it. Fine. Fine... I guess. I... I'll talk—”

—and then she pulled her otaku spiral glasses out of her pocket, switching them on and pushing them up with her middle finger. “—about the dark poison within my soul.”

* * *

_I pull out the second CD, and a sheet of paper that accompanies it. So, these are the lyrics to the song of Juri's words... but, well, I listened to the original English version of the song itself, and I can't say I'm quite sure how these words go along with the music. I can hear the original lyrics, and they're vaguely similar, but... hm._

_ I'm sure if she were here, she'd say something like, “You just need to feel Anno-sensei's spirit! Don't think, Yuki! Feel!” or something similarly unhelpful. I'm sorry, Juri, but this whole thing really isn't quite my wheelhouse._

_ —Still. I said I would understand you. Please, let me feel your words. Let me write your part of this story. Let's go together._

* * *

The saga of Juri Sonohara, age 24, the woman who destroys all, starts with her birth in 2019! Come one, come all, to marvel at...

...I... don't know where I was going with that. That was dumb. Sorry.

When I was born, there was something wrong with me. Everyone could tell, my parents, my teachers, everyone. Other kids cried, and screamed, and gritted their teeth, but my face... never moved. It took me a long time to understand that they didn't have to try to make faces, that everyone else's faces just _moved_ without having to try. I didn't get it.

It was like there was a barrier between me and everyone else. It didn't help that I was pretty stupid. I couldn't get what people's faces meant since I didn't make them, and I took things too literally, and I kept making noises like I was a little kid when I was growing older already... I kept getting stuck on things, and I had a hard time learning things other kids got easily.

But, I liked music, at least. My mom didn't like music. She thought it was annoying when I tapped on the keyboard trying to make sounds. I don't think she ever really liked me... I was a pretty bothersome kid to have, since I wouldn't just shape up and be like other kids.

—That's, uh, that's around when... I saw _Mobile Suit Gundam_ for the first time. And... Well, you know, Tomino-sensei was really a shockingly smart guy for his time. I mean, 1979 and he was already putting out salient metaphors about the evolution of social awareness that would only get more and more appropriate as the world moved into the era of having people connected through global communication, 'cause you know, the world was pretty wild before we had the internet. It's really interesting how easily the metaphor of the Newtype maps on to the generally more sensitive people of especially our Pained Generation, you know—

_Fuan na no._

_(I'm afraid.)_

uh.

Sorry. Um, well... you know... well, it's like, when I was that age, I thought it was so cool how Newtypes could communicate with—

So a Newtype is—

Mobile Suit Gundam is about this kid named Amuro Ray—

_Fuan na no._

_(I'm afraid.)_

—agh, _fuck!_ Shut up, Juri! Christ! This isn't important! Yes it is. What am I talking about? It actually is important. Ugh. God. Why is this so hard? Brain is shit. Okay. Ahem.

So, basically, Mobile Suit Gundam has this big byline about people who are evolving because of the spacefaring era to have like, empathetic, psychic connections with each other. They're called Newtypes, and when two Newtypes meet and their minds connect, it's this... big, revelatory experience. Like, the main character meets this girl named Lalah, and even years later after she's died, they connected on such a profound level without the use of their words or physical bodies that he can still _talk to her._

And, you know, me, being a brokebrained freak child who couldn't use her face, I thought that was so great. Mom and Dad argued so much, you know, I thought it would be great if they could communicate like that. I loved it so much. I loved Mobile Suit Gundam, and I found ways to see all the sequels, and I loved them, too... well, Victory was kinda weird, on account of Tomino's depression hitting him pretty rough—

_Minna ni kirawareru no ga, kowai_

_(I'm afraid of being disliked by everyone.)_

_Jibun ga kizutsuku no ga, kowai_

_(I'm afraid of being hurt.)_

Anyway, so eventually it got pretty bad. I didn't have much of a sense for volume—

(“Get Juri to _shut that thing off!_ I don't wanna hear any more of it!”)

—so Mom and Dad started locking me in my room, away from my keyboard and the TV and stuff. But I could still hear them, arguing about me, arguing about how they'd never even wanted a kid to begin with and they had to have this demon child.

—Huh? Yeah, it's fine to call myself that. I'm just quoting them.

So... when I was eight, they broke up. My mom and dad got divorced, and neither of them really wanted me, so I got put in foster care. As far as they were concerned, I wasn't theirs anymore. And I, well... I cried for days and days and days. I'd been trying to learn how to emote like a normal person so they could be happier, but they gave up and left. I was scared. I wanted my family back.

_Demo—hito o kizutsukeru no ga, kowai_

_(But—I'm even more afraid of hurting other people.)_

_Demo—kizutsukukete shimau._

_(But—I've already hurt them.)_

I stayed like that for a while, but when I was ten, I was told that a new family was willing to take me in. I got to meet them for a bit, and... they were kind. They'd just had a new child, and wanted their son to have an older sister. Even though I was broken, they still liked me. I couldn't stop crying again.

Then—

Then—

Then they—

It was a fire, they said. They weren't sure what had happened. Some kind of accident. The parents... b-burned up in... a fire... their house burnt down. I donno what happened to their son. I never even got to see their house... they...

_Suki na hito o kizutsukete shimau._

_(I've already hurt the people who I love.)_

_Dakara, hito o suki ni naranai._

_(That's... why I can't let anyone else like me.)_

_Dakara, jibun o kizutsukeru no._

_(That's why I hurt myself.)_

After that... it took a while longer to find another family willing to take me in, but they did. I... I'm glad... you all didn't have to see them twisted like that. They didn't deserve that... I... I tried to be normal, and I tried, and I tried, and I thought I was doing good, but...

Then the... opera house...

_Kirai dakara._

_(And so, I'm disliked.)_

_Daikirai dakara._

_(And so—I am hated.)_

It was the third family I'd lost. They killed each other right in front of me, and... and I was stuck under that rubble for so long, and... I thought I was going to die, I thought I was dead. And that's when I realized what the problem was.

It was me. I was the problem.

_Suki ni natte wa, ikenai no._

_(That's why I can't let myself like anyone else.)_

_Dakara, jibun o kizutsukeru._

_(So—I hurt myself.)_

When I got out of there, I left the foster system. I didn't want any more parents to have to suffer with me. I did my best to support myself, and I... well, I...

I'd always wanted friends, really badly. Especially after my first parents broke up. At school, I wanted so badly to be friends with people, for people to like me. But that's when I realized people couldn't like me. They wouldn't, they'd hate me if they knew what I was like, they'd... so I started... I started being mean to people. I started arguing with people on the internet. Being... angry.

—I hate—that part of myself. I hate myself. But hey, so does everyone, right? Haha. Ba-dum-tssh.

_Yasashisa wa totemo zankoku_

_(Kindness is the greatest cruelty.)_

_Kokoro o yudanetara, watashi wa kowarete shimau_

_(If I give someone else my heart, I'll break down.)_

_Kokoro ga fureaeba, ano hito wa kizutsuku_

_(If someone else touches my heart, they'll be hurt.)_

People left me alone and that meant they never told me what they thought of me. I didn't want to hear what they had to say about me, even though I wanted to hear what they had to say about me. I wanted friends, so I had to not have friends.

Look at me, I sound like a crazy person. No big surprise. Haha. Um. Anyway.

Uh... it went like that for... a while. I started falling deeper and deeper into myself. I graduated high school, and I went further and further online, so far I thought maybe soon enough I'd finally shed this physical cocoon and turn into a spirit of pure nerd. But then, I got a job at an office, and...

—that's when I met... Heitaro. Heitaro Okita.

He was a coworker of mine, who'd been there for longer. I got yelled at by our boss one day, and he came over and sympathized with me. Somehow... I couldn't get him to go away. Nothing worked. He was just a nice guy, almost oblivious to that kind of thing. Somehow, we became... friends.

And he... brought me over to his house, eventually. Introduced me to his wife, and...

(“Oh, there she is. Sachi! Come here!”

“Um... yes?”

“This is my friend Sonohara. I think I've mentioned her a few times?”)

...Sachi. Their... daughter, Sachi. Um... you know. That girl in that photo I like...

_Dakara, watashi wa kowareru shika nai_

_(So—all I can do is be broken.)_

_Mu e to kaeru shika nai_

_(All I can do... is return to nothing.)_

It turned out that she was someone I'd argued with on the internet a lot. Sachi... she's a beautiful girl. She's smart, and unlike me, she has charisma about her interests. She was nervous when I first met her, but she really blossomed soon after, and I was so proud to know her. She's smug and an intellectual and a stupid fujoshi and sure, we were seven years apart in age and all, but I... she got me. She got me more... than anyone else ever did.

(“So, I've been looking online at stuff. Have you ever heard of 'avoidant personality disorder'?”

Juri shook her head. “No... um, what's that?”

“It's a psychological disorder characterized by social anxiety, inhibition, and fear of rejection, but also a really intense desire to be understood by people,” Sachi said, still looking at her laptop. “I was looking at it and it sounded a lot like you, I know you have trouble with every single one of those things. It develops a lot in childhood abuse victims.”

“But I wasn't—”

Sachi turned her head over the side of her wheelchair to raise her eyebrow at Juri. “Yes you were, idiot, shut up. I'm gonna tell Mom and Dad to find you a doctor.”)

Thanks to her support, I started being able to work better. I got back into things, I even started going to cons again. I started going to a therapist, I looked at resources, I... I felt like I could be a human person.

I started going over to the Okita house more and more. Sure, they've never legally adopted me, but... Eventually, I started calling them Mom and Dad, and neither of them objected. I was part of the family. Just as much a part as the rest of them... Sachi told me that that was one more thing we had in common.

—Then she got this boyfriend, see. This raven-haired, quiet, great listener-y, jock dude who she'd fallen in love with before she realized she was a girl, and that was awkward but then they actually did get together a few years later and they're such an obnoxiously perfect couple, man, makes me wanna puke with how _normie_ it is.

Sachi was... special to me. And one day, at Comiket, I realized that I didn't feel about her like I did about my parents. I'd never... had a sibling, before. I loved her a lot. She was special to me, and I never wanted to lose her.

But then, I started worrying.

What if these feelings—meant I was in _love_ with her?

_Mu e to kaerou_

_(Let me return to nothing,)_

_Mu e to kaerou_

_(Let me return to nothing,)_

_Sore wa yasashisa ni michi-michita tokoro_

_(because it's such a kind place, filled with warmth,)_

_Soko wa, shinjitsu no itami no nai tokoro_

_(where the pain of reality will never reach me,)_

_Kokoro no yuragi no nai tokoro_

_(and my heart won't tremble anymore.)_

I mean, she was seven years younger than me. A high school girl, a _straight_ high school girl, who was basically my sister, and who was in a relationship, and who was seven years younger than me, and was basically my sister, and was straight, and was basically my sister, and who was seven years younger than me! Wouldn't that be messed up? It would be messed up if that was what those feelings were, right?

And, and I don't know what I was supposed to think but... but I was scared, I was scared that what I felt was love! I was scared because... because that...

That would be just like me.

I could see it then. I can see it now. I mean, I was a friend of Heitaro's originally. Surely if that happened, I wouldn't just get kicked out. Heitaro would get blamed for having introduced me to begin with. It would become a difference they couldn't go over. The family I love, they'd break up, they'd be broken because of me. Just like they always are, you know? So—so it would be really bad if those feelings were what I was afraid they were.

Which... they... probably were, because that's just like me, to destroy everything I touch.

Everything got worse again. It was all just me pretending. I could never get better. There was no way I could ever be anything other than a homewrecker. I shouldn't even be alive, I...

I was drunk. And, I was with Sachi. We were under this bridge, and it was nighttime, and it was cold, and I started saying... really stupid things.

(“Hey, Sachi... hey, you ever think about how fucked up I am?”

“Ugh, idiot. Don't say anything you're gonna regret just because you're drunk.”

“Hey, no, seriously, like, think about this... wouldn't it be super messed up if I was in love with you?”)

_Mu e to kaerou_

_(Let me return to nothing,)_

_Mu e to kaerou_

_(Let me return to nothing,)_

_Tanin no inai, mu e to kaerou_

_(Where there's nobody else, let me return to nothing.)_

I told her—what I was worried about. I told her that I was afraid I was in love with her. I told her. I told her it all. I told her everything right to her face.

When I woke up at home the next day, I remembered everything. How could I forget? I... I'd done the worst thing possible, what I never should've ever done. I couldn't bring myself to face them. I couldn't even go to work. I sat inside for three days straight. I couldn't face them or go to work or answer calls. I just... didn't want to exist.

_Mu e to kaerou_

_(Let me return to nothing,)_

_Mu e to kaerou_

_(Let me return to nothing,)_

_Kizutsuku koto no nai, mu e to kaerou..._

_(Where nothing can hurt me, let me return to nothing...)_

That's... when I got kidnapped. I got kidnapped on the fourth day of not leaving my apartment. I woke up... here. And even now—I don't know what's going to happen, but I know what's going to happen. They're breaking apart even now... they hate me. They hate my guts, they hate me... they hate me because I'm a monster.

I'm such... I'm so fucked up... I... It always...

“_It all... returns... to nooothiiiing... it all comes tumbling down, tumbling down, tumbling doooown..._”

“_It all... returns... to nooothiiiing... I just keep letting me down, letting me down, letting me doooown..._”

* * *

Juri had started clapping in time to her own impromptu singing. Her English was very noticeably accented. She trailed off after that last 'letting me down', though, and slumped back over. For a bit, the sound of Juri's tear-laden breathing was the only noise in the room.

“Okay,” Juri said. “I'm done. You can start the vote now.”

A few people started, but as the overseer, Phanuel got to step in first. “Are you sure you don't want to wait to hear what people have to say?”

“I know what they have to say,” Juri answered. “I—”

“Hey!”

Despite his earlier grumbling, it was Zenji who'd spoken up. He was looking away, his arms over back of his chair. “You do not. Don't put words in my mouth.”

That was enough to make Juri look up. “Wha—_you_?”

“Whaddya mean, _me_?” Zenji clicked his tongue and gritted his teeth. “You saying I'm not allowed to speak up?”

“Honestly, I was expecting you to stand up and punch my head off halfway through that,” Juri responded. “I mean, you lost it on Wataru—”

“Look, that _hit close to home_, okay?” Zenji threw his hands up, and leaned forward, his face in an almost comically angry sneer until he took a moment to realize how he looked and deflated. “Wait. You're trying to piss me off so I don't get to say what I want to say.”

“Am I?” Juri blinked.

“Perhaps unconsciously,” Zoe said, “but it seems likely, yes, given what you've said.”

“Oh.” Juri blinked. “Uh, sorry... I guess...” She rubbed the back of her head. “I don't know... Fine, go ahead.”

“You didn't do anything wrong,” Zenji said.

“Yeah, I—”

“_No_,” Zenji said, “you _didn't_. You moron. You told that story like you expected people to hate you when you were the fucking _victim_. You're just some hurt kid who doesn't know how to deal with people liking her. 'Least, that's how I see it.”

“No, I'm—”

“Man—hey, Doc, what's the word for when someone constantly assumes the worst possible outcome and gets all screwed up about it?” Zenji asked.

“I believe you're looking for 'catastrophizing',” Zoe offered. “Which Juri here very much demonstrates.”

“That's you, that's how you sounded that whole time,” Zenji said, nodding in agreement. “You're not being realistic.”

“But I—”

“Nah,” Anzu said, craning her head to the side to look at Juri, “you pretty much did.”

Juri turned her whole body, then, toward Anzu, standing up, bringing her hands up and shaking like some sort of cartoon character. “Did you not hear that part where I'm in lo—”

She stopped in her tracks, and looked down. Bella had gotten out of her seat, come over, and wrapped Juri in a hug. “Please don't,” Bella said. “That ain't true, Juri.”

“Um... hi?” Juri blinked.

“You're just scared, hun. That's all,” Bella said. She shook her head into Juri's shoulder. “You're just scared of losing your place. You wanna know what I think?”

“Simultaneously yes and no,” Juri answered.

“I think you love Sachi like a sister,” Bella said, pulling her head back and placing her hands on Juri's shoulders so Juri would look her in the eyes. “You said you ain't never had a lover before... and I'll bet you ain't ever even been _in_ love, have you?”

“...Not with anyone 3D,” Juri mumbled.

“See? I saw you, I saw how you talk about her. You love her so much, and you don't wanna lose her, and that's about the only way you can think of you _could_ lose her,” Bella said. “So you get all up in your own head and ignore how unlikely that is. I...”

Bella smiled, and even staring at them from the side, I could see how bright of a smile it was. “For a bit there, I was you, Juri.”

“Huh?” Juri blinked.

“Your momma thought I was you,” Bella said. “And those memories of yours don't lie, not really. I felt how much that family loves you, and that's the truth.”

Juri had stopped crying for a bit, but I saw the wetness come back to her eyes, even as her expressions failed her. (She'd switched glasses again at some point during her monologue.) “I... I'm scared...”

“Juri, I know I've only known you for about a week now,” Bella said, “but I know what I see. You ain't a monster, or a predator, or some kinda sickness. You've just had a real hard time of it. It's okay to be scared. I'm scared 'bout near all the dang time.”

I could see Juri shiver for a moment, before the wetness fell, and she buried her head in the crook of Bella's neck. “I don't wanna be alone. I don't wanna be alone... don't leave me, please...”

—And I think most of us could sympathize with something like that.

And then it went **black** again

and I saw Juri in the next room, sitting in the chair,

her face blank but her hands gripping the armrests,

and there was a quiet _thunk_,

as she whispered, “I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die...” to herself

and a second _thunk_

as Nagisa said, “Good luck, then,”

and a third

and we were all back in the circle. Two hands were raised—Zenji's, and Minato's. “This again, huh?” Wataru said.

The first terminal lit up red. 'Execute'. “This again,” Tsukihi agreed. Zenji and Minato looked at each other.

“I can trust you, right, you little weasel?” Zenji scoffed, as the second terminal lit up green. 'Exonerate'.

“If I'm nothing else,” Minato said, pounding his fist against his chest, “I'm a man of my word.” And—

Green. 'Exonerate'. Phanuel leapt up from underneath their podium to cheer, and a weight was lifted off of my chest, as well as the rest of the group's. “The vote comes in green! Juri Sonohara is _exonerateeeeed_!” They pulled out a party horn and honked it. “Yaaaaaaay! I thought I was going to explode from stress!”

So as not to overcrowd her, Bella, Minato, Zenji, and I were the only ones who headed into the next room to find Juri, her eyes open incredibly wide, staring at the far window. “Uh,” she said. “I'm. Not dead. Right?” Her eyes darted between left and right. “This is me not being dead?” She blinked. “Why is he here?” She was looking at Minato.

“Because I voted,” Minato said with a shrug and a grin. “Love is hard, man. I'm here to express my most deepestest sympathies.” He paused, then stopped grinning and furrowed his brow. “But like, seriously though. Hi, yeah, glad I could help.”

“And I wasn't done hugging you yet,” Bella said, leaning down to hug Juri for a few more seconds. I saw her squeeze a little uncomfortably tightly there at the end. “Okay, there we go.”

“Weren't there three votes was the third one 'Execute' again are you _sure_ that wasn't anyone here,” Juri said, her words coming out in a breathless monotone.

“I'm sure,” I said, offering her my hand to help her stand up. She didn't take it. “Juri?” I paused. “Juri?”

Saori came in the room, took one look at Juri, and said, “Oh. She's frozen in disbelief. You should try picking her up.”

“What,” Juri said. Zenji shrugged, and started lifting Juri from beneath the shoulders. She wasn't very heavy at all, but she was definitely loud about it. “Hey! Hey hey hey HEY HEY NO, no. No. No!” She waved her arms around, as Zenji shrugged again and put her down. At lightning speed, Juri stood up and started backing toward the wall. “No! No. No!”

“Yaaaay, it worked,” Saori said, raising her arms up in ever-understated glee.

Turning her head to try and retreat into the further room, Juri saw Wataru, Park, Zoe, Tsukihi, and Ryo all giving her the most obnoxiously understanding and sympathetic gazes (Anzu was too busy being edgy in the corner). “Hi!” Ryo said, beaming.

I could almost see Juri's defenses shrinking. “Unfortunately,” Tsukihi said, “it seems your sins didn't pass muster. In fact, I'd say I find you _more_ endearing now.” She was smirking to herself.

“Funny, that,” Park said. I could see a hint of dread in his eyes.

“Okay, this can't be real,” Juri said, turning in to stand in the doorway and hold her head. “The bunch of randoes I got kidnapped with can't be this overall supportive of anything, that's ridiculous.”

“Shared trauma will do that to you,” I said, patting Juri on the shoulder, which got her to squeak. “In my experience.”

“Especially when your 'sin' is basically just self-loathing as a trauma response,” Wataru added. He smiled. “Not that I'd know anything about that, of course.”

“Well, technically, you did _more_ wrong than Miss Juri did,” Park said, laughing a little under his breath. “That is to say, well—you _did_ illegally street race _and_ get a speeding ticket.” That got a 'good point' from Wataru, as well as a chuckle.

“Wouldn't it be crazy if _all_ of us were just really self-loathing as a trauma response,” Minato said, “and none of us actually did anything wrong?”

That actually got Anzu to laugh out loud. “That'd be pretty stupid.”

“Still,” I said, rubbing my hilt, “it is pretty funny that we've gotten two in a row.”

Zenji turned his head toward the camera and shrugged, with a cartoonish grin on his face. “It's almost like Nagisa was intentionally warming us up for shit that's worse and this streak is about to end really hard!”

Silence.

“Do you have to jinx it?” Kenichiro said, going over and lightly tapping Zenji on the head. “Don't jinx it, kiddo.”

“Sorry,” Zenji said, “force of habit.” Pause. “So what do we do now?”

“I suppose we... go... back down?” Park said, his voice lilting into a question at the end. He idly sidled toward the elevator. “And continue... as we were?”

Phanuel poofed over there and hit the elevator button for him. “You got it! Head on down and enjoy yourselves! And congratulations, Juri! I'm proud of you!” And there went Phanuel again.

Juri blinked, once, twice, three times. She revved up to start speaking, but stopped. Then she tried again, and stopped. Then she tried again—“What just happened?” She got it!

“Your doctor's appointment went well,” Zoe said, as a few people began to file onto the elevator. “We've had some very constructive discussion today, Juri. I hope we can continue to do so in the future.”

“I'd like to watch more anime with you sometime,” Saori, who was still here, said. “It was fun. You're nicer when you like things.”

“When I told Heitaro that we met at a 'support group',” I said, “I wasn't quite expecting to be so correct.” I giggled. “Weren't you and Bella going to go watch... um, _Dunbine_, was it?”

“Oh yeah!” Bella clapped, then rubbed her hands together. “I do believe we had a date, little missy.”

“D-d-duhwhat now?” Juri blinked, then stopped and took a deep, deep breath. Then—

—she smiled. “Well, actually, you like magical girls, right, Bella?” Glasses _swap_. Otaku mode _on_. “If you're so insistent, then I might as well give you something you would enjoy particularly. Tell me, child—ever heard of _Magic Knight Rayearth_?”

“Do believe I've heard the name,” Bella said, “but not much else.”

“Excellent,” Juri said, wriggling her fingers. “I'll bring you into the muck with me, Duke.”

Everyone rode the elevator down, and started to leave. Despite all the pomp and circumstance, nothing had really changed. It was... fine.

“Oh, uh,” Juri said, turning on her heel just before she'd successfully dragged Bella off to watch whatever anime she was talking about. “Hey, Yuki.”

I was still standing in front of the elevator, a bit lost in my own thoughts, so I started to attention. “Ah, yes?”

“Look, I... I guess I should say thanks,” Juri said. “You did a lot. I think. I... donno what I'm doing. But, um...”

“You're welcome,” I said, giving her a smile. I reached my hand out. “I'd like to become better friends with you. And, er, one other thing?”

“Yeah?” Juri said, staring down at my hand.

“I think it would be a shame if you let your keyboard get dusty,” I said. “Give it a try.”

Juri made a few noises of complete confusion before reaching her hand out to shake mine and make a few more noises. “Okay, I guess? You people are weird.”

“That's nice and all,” Bella said, swooping in to interrupt our handshake, “but quit pallin' around with my pretty little apprentice! _Some_ of us don't have ongoing tension with a punk rock scene girl.” Bella stuck her tongue out at me.

“Why is Yuki your apprentice now?” Juri said, and though her eyes were blocked, I was pretty sure she was blinking rapidly again. “What? Yuki, what does she teach you?”

“Good question!” I called out.

I found myself wandering down to the beach, to take a breath of fresh air, and sit on the sand. Something Juri had said had stuck with me. I took my shoes off and let the water lap at my feet, and laid back to stare up at the sky.

'Newtypes'. People who evolved for a new era, who could psychically connect to each other and understand each other that way. Humans for a new environment, a new time and place. I had to admit—it sounded nice.

—If only things could be so uniform. I picked up a small stone, and tossed it across the water. One, two, three, plunk. Then—I heard small footsteps behind me, and a displacement of sand. I knew those sounds. Ryo.

“You too, huh?” I said, handing the boy a stone to toss across the water. Ryo's eyes, in that shade of violet I'd always found so pretty, stared across the water and tried it himself. One, two, three, four—I gasped. “You made it farther than me! Good job!” Ryo smiled, and leaned into my ruffling his hair to congratulate him.

“...Why?” Ryo said, as he leaned further into me.

I knew what he was asking. 'Why do we exist?' 'Why were we born like this?' “I don't know,” I said, tossing another rock. One, two, three, four, plunk. I'd copied Ryo's form. “But that 'Newtype' concept sounds nice, doesn't it?”

“Yes,” Ryo said.

Pause.

“I missed you,” Ryo said.

“I know,” I answered. I hugged him closely. “I missed you too, Ryo.”

I didn't know then what a 'real sinner's' world looked like. What the world of a really, truly _guilty_ person could be. I'd find out soon enough. And...

I don't think I could ever forget

the story of the Wretched Explorer.

* * *

Later that night, I was in my room reading a book when I received a knock on the door. I got out of bed, gussied my hair up a little bit with my hands, and opened the door.

“E-er, hello, Yuki.” It was Park. “I'm sorry to interrupt you, ah...”

“No problem at all,” I said. “What is it?”

“Well, I needed to go ask Wataru something,” Park said, and he began to blush and curl inward onto himself. “He's up in that photography room of his, you see, and... i-it felt untoward, and... I'd feel strange, er, having a... social call at this time... you know, um...”

“Yes, I'll accompany you to go see Wataru,” I said, giggling and patting Park on the shoulder.

So it was that we found ourselves in front of Wataru's personal room. I took the liberty of knocking, and Wataru answered soon. He opened the door, the white light inside the room emanating out into the dim hallway. “Oh, hey, you two,” he said, blinking. His jacket was off, so those ever-muscular arms of his were on full display. I could tell they were making Park a touch nervous. “What's up?”

“I'm here as Park's plus one,” I said. “He tells me he had something to ask you?”

“A-ah! Yes, er, that is to say...” Park cleared his throat. “About the photos you took... er, in Miss Juri's mental landscape. Might I see them?”

“Oh, sure,” Wataru said. He led us in, and pulled out a folder he'd put together. “This is all of them. Any you're looking for in particular?”

“The ones of her prospective foster family's home, please,” Park said, momentum allowing him to be a bit less nervous. Wataru started to flip through the pages, and—

Just for a moment, I saw photos on the tram. Of Park battling with _her_.

But...

“...huh?” I whispered.

Hadn't she been wearing a white dress...? It was undoubtedly _her_, but...

Of course she'd been wearing a white dress. I didn't doubt my memory. But here, she was wearing... that was a high school uniform. I vaguely recognized it from somewhere, so perhaps I'd seen the specific school, but—

Its top was all-white. Long-sleeved, with a black ribbon tie on the front. She had on a green pencil skirt, and black thigh highs, and plain black shoes.

—Ah, wait. I knew why it looked familiar. It reminded me, somehow, of that dress that I'd been in when I first awoke.

But... a high school uniform? Why on earth—?

“Here they are,” Wataru said, flipping the page. My attention refocused onto the situation around me, as I saw Park begin to scan the photos of the burnt house. “What's up?”

“I think...” Park shook his head. “No, this is for certain... yes, absolutely, there's no doubt about it. I... I know this house.”

“Huh?” I snapped properly to attention. “You do?”

“They lived just down the street from me, and I did errands for them many a time,” Park said. He shook his head. “A family by the name of Yamamoto... that's their house. I'm certain of it. To think... I could've met Miss Juri that long ago had things gone better.”

“Well, that's... an odd coincidence,” Wataru said. He raised his eyebrow. “Do you think it's a coincidence?”

Park shook his head. “No, I don't believe so. I... I think this must be related. Absolutely. You see—you _see_,” and Park took in a deep breath, “the details of the incident were a bit mum, but I was a touch more adventurous at that ripe young age of fourteen, so I'd overheard a few officers speaking privately around the house even when it was blocked off. The Yamamotos were as happy a couple as I'd ever seen, so I scarcely believed it when I heard it, but—according to those officers...

“just before the fire, they'd _attacked one another._”

-_Rainflower Game, Part 3-_

_-Nameless Samurai-_

_~Fin~_


	28. Pheasant's Flight, 2 ~ A Golden Girl Genius

Poke. Poke, poke. The chopsticks went poke, poke, poke, against the side of the bowl. Poke, poke. Poke, poke, poke. Poke, poke. A heavy sigh. Poke, poke.

“Sachi,” her mother said, “you've barely touched your food.”

—Dinner at the Okita household had been a bit strained for the past week or so. While the mother looked at her daughter with concerned eyes, the brilliant genius prodigy Sachi Okita, with a listless, faraway look in her eyes, poke, poke, poked her bowl. “Sachi—”

“I _know_,” Sachi said. She twiddled with a lock of her hair—she'd been much too stressed to put it up lately. “I told you I wasn't hungry.”

“That's not what your stomach said,” Shino said, taking a glance down behind the table at the hunched-over stomach of the girl genius's body. It had been growling up a storm today. “Have you eaten?”

—Sachi didn't want to admit that the answer was 'no', of course, but it was plain on her face. It had been a long time since her eyes had been this baggy, her hair this ragged. Old temper issues were beginning to flare up, and she'd found herself gritting her teeth. Her _dandruff_ was even flaring up again, how dare it. “Where's Dad?” she asked.

“Heitaro is out...” Shino sighed, and looked out the window. “He's... at the police station again. Asking around, to see if anyone knows anything.”

“Mm,” Sachi said, and finally took a bite of her soba. Shino Okita's soba, renowned in the neighborhood for its taste, currently tasted like absolutely nothing. “Guess he'll be out late again.”

“Guess so,” Shino said, with a commiserating nod.

Saying words took a lot of energy, so Sachi finally started eating. A bit of taste managed to make its way through her feelings, and that was satisfying enough. “It's—it's Sunday tomorrow, isn't it?” Shino said, doing her best to pep herself up. “What are you going to do?”

“Senpai offered to take me out,” Sachi said, her voice a low grumble. “Gonna go shopping or something.”

“Oh, good,” Shino said, leaning in, putting her elbows on the table (now that she was done) and smiling. “He's a nice boy, isn't he? You really did get lucky with him.”

“Mmhm,” Sachi said.

“Do your best to have a good time, okay?” Shino said, putting her hands on her heart. “I know it's hard, but we need to stay positive. I—”

“I _know_,” Sachi said, bending over and putting her head in her hands. “I know,” she said again, through her fingers. “I know I have to stay positive. I _know_.”

—Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it. What the hell was she supposed to say at a time like this? She shouldn't be getting mad at her own mother. A gross little part of her wanted to well up and start screaming, but that wasn't _right_. Mom was hurting, too. But then—

_Mom doesn't understand. She can't understand. She wasn't there._

After all, it wasn't Shino who'd had to hear the last words Juri said before she was kidnapped.

(“Hey, Sachi... wouldn't it be super messed up if I was in love with you? It'd be disgusting, right? It'd be disgusting, and you'd hate me and you'd want to throw me over this bridge and watch me freeze to death, right? Right? Because you're my sister, right? And you have a boyfriend, and you're—haha, hahahahaha, hahahahahahahahaha.

“Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha ohhhh god, oh god, here it comes. It'd be super messed up, right? It'd just be so fucked up? It'd be so fucked up that it would totally destroy my life, right? Right? Right? So it'd be totally like me, right? Right? Heyyyy, where we goin'? C'mon, this is supposed to be where the villain gives her monologue or something, right? About how fucked up it would be if I was in love with you? It'd be so messed up, right?! Right?! Say something. Say something please. Please. Please say something. Say how messed up it would be. Please say how much you'd hate me. Please. Please please please please please. Please. Sachi, please. Please. I need you. I need you. Please don't go. Please don't go... please don't, please don't go! Please don't leave me! _Please don't leave meeeeeeee!_”)

The chopsticks—_**shattered**_ in her hand. She'd have to check for splinters later, Sachi distantly noted. “Sachi?!”

“I don't know what I'm supposed to do,” Sachi said, still holding her snapped chopsticks in her hand. “I don't know what I'm supposed to _say_. I don't know what I'm supposed to _feel_! Nobody ever told me what to do in this kind of situation.” She moved her hands, both hands on her forehead, pushing her rough, unkempt bangs out of her face. The chopsticks clattered to the floor. “I don't know what I'm supposed to do. What if—what if she never comes back, huh?”

“Of course she's going to come back,” Shino said, reaching over with an aimless air to try and comfort her daughter. “The note—”

“Of _course_ you _believe_ what a kidnapper says,” Sachi retorted, looking up to glare at her mother. “I know I'm supposed to believe it, that's all I can do, because it's not like I can get up and go look for her myself, but what the hell am I supposed to _feel_, huh?! If I'd gone over there and _checked_ on her, maybe she wouldn't be gone now! If I hadn't just tried to _call_!”

“No, there's—” Shino gritted her teeth, and her eyes screwed shut. “It's not your fault, Sachi!”

“I just don't _know_!” Sachi yelled, and she suddenly realized that her tears had begun to fall into her bowl. “...I just... don't know. I don't know... I don't know anything. What am I supposed to do when I don't know anything, huh?”

“Sweetie...” Shino reached out, and took her daughter's hands. “Just... Please don't rip yourself apart feeling bad about this. I... I'm scared, too.” There were tears in her eyes, too. “I don't know... what I'm going to do.”

“Mom...”

From across the table, that was all they could do—hold hands. Both of them were crying. This table was set for four, but only two ate tonight.

* * *

When in polite company, Sachi only ever referred to him as 'Senpai'. Sometimes she did so when they were together, too, but—

“Shin_iiiiiiiiiii_chiiiiii!” the golden girl genius called out, stretching her arm to the side. “Hand me my coat, please!”

“Mmhm,” Shinichi Suzumura, tall, dark, wiry track star of Sanba Academy said, producing a pale green cardigan to slide onto his girlfriend's arm. He scurried over to the other side to give her the second sleeve, too, and Sachi adjusted the collar, pulling her twintails over it to ensure her hair was properly on display. It was cold, so she was wearing her _cool_ boots, and some tights to go with. With a pleated skirt, a sweater and a precious winter blouse, boots, tights, and her pretty face, surely Sachi Okita, golden girl genius, was the most gorgeous of all the high school girls in their precinct at the very least.

Sachi crossed her arms, looked down with a smug grin, and chuckled. “Hmhmhm. How do I look, boyfriend?”

Comparatively, the dark-haired, dark-eyed Shinichi in his plain browns and whites was downright _normie_. “You look great,” he said with a soft smile.

“You know,” Sachi said, her nose going from down to up, “last night, I was in quite a mess. I got spruced up _just_ for you, young man. How does that make you feel?”

“Very appreciated,” Shinichi said, quietly grabbing her remote control to kindly stroll her wheelchair alongside him while she gesticulated.

“That's why I like you, sweetheart,” Sachi said, waggling her finger. “You're the sort of man who appreciates when he's given good things in life—like myself. And coming to my rescue in my time of need, so _princely_. Hu hu hu. Have I told you recently that I love you, dear?”

“This is the sixth time today,” Shinichi said.

“Let's make it seven! I love you, Shinichi,” Sachi said. “Oh—my goodness,” she said, now that she'd properly registered they were in the city streets, “is that a new _chocolate store_? Shinichi, I'd like to go in there.”

“Mmhm, of course,” Shinichi said.

The sort of fancy chocolates in an actual chocolate store were not the sort of thing that Sachi got to partake in too often, so she couldn't help but relish in picking out some little, delicately decorated square and having Shinichi, with that soft, adoring smile on his face, sit down and gently deliver it to her waiting mouth. Many at their school claimed that part of Suzumura-senpai's appeal was his stony, taciturn face, so his brilliant smile was a pleasure Sachi had all to herself. And the chocolate was good, too, sweet and decadent—she'd heard once that it had properties that improved mood, and she couldn't deny that it seemed to be working.

But the way that the noontime sun hit Shinichi's dark locks and made his eyes sparkle was the best part of it. Probably. The chocolate _was_ really good.

_Oh, god,_ Sachi's inner voice said, hacking and coughing, _Jesus fucking Christ when did I become such a normie?!_

For an out and proud otaku like Sachi Okita, purveyor of husbandos galore, having such a socially fulfilled, downright saccharine romantic moment like this by all rights should've felt impossible, but here they were. Frankly, the story of the blooming romance of her life felt like some sort of anime plot to begin with.

To wit, the now-Sachi Okita had entered this school district as a young 'man' who had 'his' first crush on an attractive senpai. Shinichi, bless his heart, had been very sad to inform her that he was, in fact, straight—but then a few months later she'd had the epiphany and the courage, supported by her parents and her basically-sister, to begin publicly transitioning from a messy little anger-ridden moppet into the beautiful young lady she'd always been meant to be.

Of course, the two of them had remained friends, and in the process of becoming older and going through puberty, Shinichi slowly realized that he was in love with the same girl he'd once rejected—oh, but what turmoil in his heart when he worried that perhaps he'd lost his chance the first time?! Meanwhile, Sachi, ever more industrious, kept getting admirers—but her eyes (and her tastes) kept straying back to the dark pretty boy she called a friend! Weeks, months, of unspoken feelings boiling under the surface until the kind words of her _nee-san_ convinced Sachi, under the sparkling lights of summer festival fireworks, to confess her feelings! A bond of old friendship blossomed this time into genuine romance, and the two consummated their feelings with a heartfelt kiss beneath the moonlight!!

Frankly, it was so patently absurd that if it weren't literally true, Sachi felt she'd punch the person who came up with this tripe in the face. But here she was, being fed chocolate by her boyfriend on their weekly day off. With a hearty 'backflip onto a landmine and explode, normie' directed at herself, Sachi let out a listless, heavy sigh through a few fragments of chocolate in her mouth.

Shinichi tilted his head. “Mm?”

“Ah—no, it's not you, it's me,” Sachi said, looking away.

“Mm,” Shinichi said with a nod. He reached out to grasp Sachi's hand, and she immediately lit up and froze when he did so. “You're cold.”

“I'm not _that_ cold,” Sachi said.

“Sachi,” Shinichi said. “You're shivering.” Arggggh, why did he always have to look like such a sad little puppy when he was concerned about her?! “Let's go.”

He led her along to a high-end electronics store, and produced from his pocket a voucher. “From the college,” he explained. “I don't need it. Do you want it?”

“Oh, come on,” Sachi said, staring at the voucher, her fingers wriggling. “You need that, Shinichi. You can't just go without decent tech in this day and age, boy.”

“I can just get it from you,” Shinichi said, tilting his head, and that was a sufficiently good answer for Sachi to grab the voucher and clutch it close to her chest like a goblin. Her brain began to race—oohoohoohoo, imagine all the possibilities with free components to do what she wanted with her rig back at home. How much nonsense could her genius brain put forth in terms of programming both freeware and paid? How much could she continue showing how damn smart she was in terms of user-friendliness and processing ability compared to the plebs who actually got paid the big bucks for this shit?

Her hands halted on the way to a tasty, tasty stick of RAM, and she looked down. “Sachi?”

“C'mon,” Sachi muttered to herself, “shop. _Shop_. This makes you _happy_, moron.”

She shopped, but it didn't make her as happy as it should've. With a bag in hand full of goods bought off of the back of her boyfriend's athleticism, the two of them went to go sit in a park in the center of town. A few kids were running about, playing and bothering their parents, and the evergreen trees in the park defied the late November weather.

With a little noise of exertion, Shinichi lifted Sachi up to place her on a bench at her request, and the two sat by each other. It hadn't snowed yet, but there were a few clouds coming in that would be here in a few hours, so maybe the skies would be gracing them with a white Christmas season.

November 29th, 2043. A phantom stared up at the sky in that very park, blank eyes listlessly gazing up at the brilliant blue afternoon heavens. “Who is... watching me?” they muttered.

—Well, the two teenagers they were standing just in front of were a start. To Sachi, some wacko with a briefcase in a suit had aimlessly wandered right over to their bench and started muttering, so she said, “You okay there?”

“Eh?” The phantom blinked, turned their head that way, and waved their hand in front of their face. “No, no. I'm very sorry. Please, um, don't let me disturb you.”

“Too late,” Sachi said.

“...Where is—” The phantom looked about. “—the bus stop? I thought there was supposed to be one over here.” Shinichi pointed to the outside of the park, not too far away. “Oh.” They checked their watch: an old-timey thing, still giving out analog time. It had a little pheasant insignia on it, Sachi noticed. “Mm. I'm early. Thank you, sir.” Shinichi nodded.

The rail-thin wacko with the orange hair strolled off to the bus stop, and it only took a few moments for Sachi to go, “Shinichi, we're following this guy,” and for Shinichi to nod in agreement. When the two made to follow, the phantom was already sitting at the bus stop, and just turned their head in recognition of the two sitting down nearby. “Do you know who you've disturbed?”

The phantom shook their head. “No, I don't.”

“You've disturbed the golden girl genius, Sachi Okita,” Sachi declared, putting her hand on her chest with a haughty cackle. “Your punishment is to entertain me until your bus arrives.”

The phantom looked down at their briefcase, then back up. “How... should I do that, exactly?”

“First of all, what's your name?” Sachi asked.

“Kiji,” Kiji said.

“Article?” Shinichi tilted his head.

Kiji shook their head. “Pheasant,” they said. “I was in town over”—and they pointed well into the distance—“there, in the country, to see a man in a hospital. They've moved him to another hospital. I need to use this bus to get to another bus, to take a train, to that hospital.”

“Couldn't you just drive?” Sachi raised her eyebrow.

“...My car is in the shop,” Kiji said, looking away bashfully. “I crashed it.” Sachi nodded.

“What are you going to go see him for?” Sachi asked.

Kiji looked up into the sky. “He might be able to answer my last remaining question,” they said. “Where to—” Then, Kiji awkwardly realized they were in public, and that discussing this sort of thing out in the open instead of in a private residence was perhaps not the best idea. “Never mind. It's... a long story.”

“I hear that,” Sachi said, spreading her arms out on this bench (now that Shinichi had slid her onto it, thank you Shinichi). “Me, I'm trying to keep my mind off of the fact that my older sister has been kidnapped.”

Kiji's head whipped around. “Eh?”

“Mmhm, mmhm,” Sachi said, hunching over. “Nasty business. Some lunatic calling herself Nagisa Ayana left a note saying she'd be back eventually, but who knows. I hadn't seen her in three days after she had a massive breakdown while she was drunk and started doing that catastrophizing thing she does, and now she's been kidnapped without me looking, and I don't know what I'm supposed to feel.”

With a gentle, soft nod, Kiji muttered, “I see.” Pause. “That's awful. I'm so sorry.” Pause. “Why are you telling me this?”

“You seem like a unique event character, so I figured you might have something useful to say,” Sachi said, and Kiji nodded.

Steepling their hands in their lap, Kiji clicked their tongue, and then said, “I never had the chance to tell someone I love what I needed to tell them.” They shook their head. “They vanished before I could say anything. Gone... and I was left with unspoken sentiment.” They raised their hands, and stared at them. “Unspoken sentiment, and blood on my hands... So cold.”

Sachi and Shinichi were nodding along. Mmhm. Blood on your hands. Yup. “So?” Sachi said.

“What do you have to say,” Kiji said, “to your sister?”

Pause.

“I wanna tell her that I forgive her,” Sachi said, “and that she's a good person, and that I want her to come home. That's all.” She paused, and looked up. “Oh, and that for all his charms Char is a basic fuckboy who has, in fact, betrayed several people in his life.”

Nod. “All good sentiments... I think,” Kiji said, turning their head away in uncertainty. There was another pause. “Nagisa... Ayana, you said?”

The air took on a different tone as Sachi's brows furrowed. “Yeah. Why?”

Down the street, the sound of a vehicle began to fade into earshot. “In that town,” Kiji said, “I spoke to a woman whose brother had been kidnapped by a 'Nagisa Ayana', I believe.” A chill ran down Sachi's spine. “And I...” Kiji's hand clutched against their heart. “For me... I also have people she has taken who I would wish to see returned. I—”

“What?” Sachi leaned in. “Are you—some sort of private investigator? Trying to find where they've gone, where she took them? _Are you going to find Juri?!_”

“I don't want to get your hopes up,” Kiji said, turning their head to the bus that was pulling in. “I'm no investigator. I'm... just a wandering phantom, looking for how to pass on. But... if I find anything, Sachi Okita, I will remember that you want your sister back.”

Before Kiji left, though—a card was shoved into their hands. Sachi had shoved it into their inventory. “If you could use any help,” Sachi said, her head down, “any, any help at all... let me know. Please. I...I might just be a teenager, but I'm a damn good programmer. The best. Just—_anything._”

With slightly wet eyes, Kiji looked down, and placed the card in their breast pocket. They nodded, and stood up. “I'll do that,” they said. “You are... a very sweet young woman. Maybe in the future, we could speak more.”

And with that, the wandering phantom known as Kiji strutted onto a bus, paid the fare, and went to go sit down. The bus drove off, and Sachi and Shinichi were left to their own devices again.

“What?” Shinichi asked.

With her arms crossed, Sachi chuckled to herself. “What a weirdo,” she said. “Shinichi. I think it's time to go somewhere else.”

After a moment's pause to process what had just occurred, Shinichi nodded. “Mm. Okay.”

* * *

As for the phantom, they left the bus at a roadside bus stop, just above an urban neighborhood. Rustling around in their pockets, they found a list of directions, earmarked with notes from the woman who'd printed them for Kiji in the first place.

“Sachi... Okita,” Kiji muttered, and looked up at the sky. “You're... much braver than me, aren't you. So much stronger... Oh—”

—A cell phone began to ring, but Kiji couldn't answer it. They'd just tripped on a rock, you see,

and were now careening toward a tree below.

Crash! Bang! Brush, crash, snap! The lithe body of the wandering phantom spun down amidst the limbs, tumbling down toward the dirt. That, then—that was a thud.

“Oh,” Kiji muttered, once they'd processed their fall. “Whoops...”

Their consciousness faded, just as they saw feet running toward them from the house right next to them.


	29. Pheasant's Flight, 3 ~ The Third Child

_Tomorrow's game between the Yoimuri Dragons and—prefecture's youngest elected official in history visited Gifu Castle yesterday to declare—similarities to the still-unsolved murder of Fuhito Inoue, head of the Inoue yakuza clan, whose son Satoshi has not been able to be reached for comment, causes investigators to wonder if this string of killings could in fact be connected, and not just isolated incidents as initially presumed._

“You're stopping on that one?” From the kitchen, a small, mousey, brunette, middle-aged woman washed her frying pan and turned her head toward the living room.

“Always with the true crime with you,” her daughter said, rolling her eyes. “What do you think people would think if they knew that you were like this?”

“Neh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh,” said the true crime fanatic, waving her hand in the face of her couchmate. “I thought it was interesting, okay?”

With one more channel flip, she leaned into the TV. “Okay, here it is.”

_—little progress into the investigation regarding the kidnapping of Prime Minister Eikichi Miyake's daughter, Mai Orihara. Miss Orihara receded from public life for a time four years ago, but recently found herself beginning a career as a stage magician—_

This was a chestnut-haired girl, medium-length with an obnoxiously pointy ahoge, with tan skin and brown eyes. Many of her school friends often told her she had a sort of 'generic protagonist' charm, which was a statement she'd never been sure how to take. She had on a baby blue blouse and a bright red pleated skirt for the express purpose of standing out from her skin. She was lean and thin, though she always considered herself a little awkwardly broad-shouldered. And when she focused, people told her she had a really amusingly serious focusing face.

“That's her,” Kei Sagami said, cocking her head back so the other people would look at the screen. “That's Yuki.”

She pointed at the screen, at the image of the smiling white-haired girl in the family photo of the Miyake-Orihara household. Standing demurely beside her mother, that white-haired girl in her floral-print kimono had an awfully delicate-looking frame, though there was something inherently pinchable about her cheeks, too. There was a wooden katana at her waist, and a sparkling, radiant smile on her face.

The other girl on the seat, noted idol metal vocalist Stella Masaki (who had cyan streaks dyed into her ponytailed hair to stand out herself, though she was much lighter-skinned, and always dressed at least fifty percent in blue at any given time, though this time it was just a navy sweater and sweatpants for the weather. Kei always called her a beatnik), raised her eyebrow. “I always thought you were fucking with me.”

“Okay,” Kei said, turning her head, “listen. There are only so many white-haired, red-eyed girls out here, and especially in Japan. I know I make a lot of jokes, I'm a real _verbal huckster_, but would I joke about this? Would—okay, would _Ryo_ joke about this?”

“Maybe he was in on the joke,” Stella said with a shrug. “I donno.”

“Look, the point is—the _point_ is,” Kei said, striking the couch with her palms, “okay, so _both_ of my friends from the Starchild Facility get kidnapped? That's _really weird_, right? And—you know!”

_—just one of many theories as to the kidnapper's motives. The simultaneous unexplained disappearance of fellow well-known stage magician Ozymandias Crowley, age thirty-six, who had been planning a large show at Tokyo Tower for the Christmas season, has caused others to theorize a grudge against stage magicians. However, with the lack of information released regarding the incident—_

“I'm sorry,” their mother, Luna Masaki, said from the kitchen, “did that just say that _Ozzie Crowley_ got kidnapped, too?”

“I mean, maybe,” Kei said, turning her head over the couch, “just said he disappeared. Why?”

“Mom has a crush on him,” Stella said, taking the remote and flipping the channels again.

“I do not!” Luna protested, placing her frying pan down with a clatter. “I just think he has quite a way with show business.”

“Huh,” Kei muttered. She curled inwards. “They shared a trade. Wonder if they knew each other?”

“Don't worry so much about it, babe,” Stella said, scooting over and patting Kei on the back. “I mean, what can we do, right?”

With a heavy sigh, Kei leaned forward and curled into herself. “I _know_, but—”

_Crash! Bang! Bash, crunch, snap! ...Thud._

Rocketing out of their seats, Kei and Stella simultaneously turned toward the backyard of their home. “What the hell was that?” Stella asked.

“Only one way to find out,” Kei said, and she got out of the living room's formation of sofas that was far too large for three people and headed toward the back door. Luna came up behind her with her frying pan.

—Whatever they’d expected to see in their backyard, an unconscious person with long orange hair, a silver briefcase, and a now-wrecked suit was certainly not it. “Oh my god,” Luna said with a gasp. “I'll—I'll get the bandages!”

“Right!” Kei said, running over and picking up the wounded person by the shoulders. Their eyes had been open when she'd come out, but they'd gone closed by now. “Hey, stay with me! C'mon!”

Okay, they were breathing. Kei checked once, and then a few seconds later again just because she was nervous. “Stella, help me out!”

The Masaki family had lived in this home for quite some time, so the room that Stella's long-gone father had used was still perfectly well suited for seating guests. The orange light of the lamp lit up the room before the lights were turned on—Luna had closed the blinds. Kei and Stella lowered the victim into the bed, where Luna had opened a place for them on the sheets.

They were very definitely unconscious by now, but Luna, who had done some volunteer first-response work, took a moment to check their vitals. “I think they might be bleeding,” she said. “I can't tell where from under the suit... I'm going to have to take it off and bandage the wound. Girls, pockets!”

Kei got the pants, Stella got the suit. As such, Stella found the business card in the victim's suit pocket—“Business card for 'Sachi Okita'. Programmer. Nothing else.”

Meanwhile, Kei found a bit more. Aside from some old receipts, there was a small box of—“Oh,” Kei muttered. She'd recognize these patches anywhere. They were the same brand she used. These pills, too—She placed the woman's hormones on the counter. “Make sure we don't lose these, okay?”

Stella and Luna both took a look over, took a moment to process, and then nodded. “Of course,” Luna said. “I'm very sorry, ma'am—!”

Underneath the suit, the woman wore a low-cut white undershirt. Her frame was wispy and thin, and her skin was just as thin—it wasn't quite unhealthy, but she wasn't very healthy. The blood around her side was much more obvious here, and even unconscious, the woman's face was scrunching up in pain. “God, she could give you a run for your money,” Kei said, cocking her head to Stella.

Stella put her hands on her hips and scoffed. “It's been _two years_, Kei!”

Luna lifted up the woman's shirt. As it turned out, the injuries on her torso weren't _too_ deep, mostly surface-level and bruising. However, they were large enough that Luna opted to try to wrap bandages across the woman's torso as a whole. However, when she flipped over the woman—

“Oh, uh,” Stella said, her eyes wide.

The woman's back was adorned with an ornate, intricate, multi-colored tattoo. A brilliant, red-and-gold _fenghuang_ in flight, arising from the small body of a weak pheasant near the small of her back. The trail of the fenghuang's wings cast a brilliant rainbow behind it, beneath the light of the sun on her shoulder.

As Luna rolled the bandages, it covered up the body of the pheasant. The gashes on the woman's body were covered up by clean white. Once that was done, a wet cloth was used to wipe the woman's sweat, and the pain she felt had apparently begun to clear just slightly, as her face was coming closer to peaceful.

“Okay,” Stella said, “so. We've got a yakuza in our house. What do we do?”

“What we do,” Luna said, standing up straight again and wiping her own sweat, “is we help her recover.”

Kei gave a firm nod, and looked at Stella, who sighed, shrugged, and nodded herself. “I'll watch and see if she wakes up,” Kei said. “If anything nasty happens, I'll give it what for!” She started making karate chop motions in the air.

“Why do I love you?” Stella said, rolling her eyes.

* * *

It was about three hours later that the woman woke up with a small cough. Kei, who'd been tapping away at a game she'd been playing lately, looked up to see the woman's eyes sloooowly open. “Ug...gh...”

“Oh, hey!” Kei said, putting her game down and standing up. “Don't exert yourself or anything, you got pretty banged up.”

“Where...” The woman attempted to support herself on her elbows to sit up a bit, but that didn't really work. Kei hurried over to help her. “...am I?”

“In our guest room,” Kei said. The woman looked over at her briefcase, still unopened. “You tumbled down that tree into our backyard? You remember that?”

The woman put a hand on her head. “Vaguely,” she said. Her eyes looked a little unfocused. Kei placed a glass of water in front of her on a tray, and the woman took it and drank. “I'm... sorry for the commotion, then.”

“No problem,” Kei said. Her ahoge stood straight up. “Oh, uh, sorry. My name's Kei. My mom, Luna, and my girlfriend, Stella—I mean, technically this is their house but I basically live here? Anyway, we kinda just brought you in.”

“You didn't call an ambulance?” the woman said, with a slow blink.

Kei shrugged. “Well, I mean, honest mistake at first, but with that tattoo on your back?”

“Mm,” the woman said, taking another drink of water. “Thank you.”

Sitting down on the bed next to the woman, Kei said, “So what were you doing falling down a tree in our backyard?”

“I think I tripped,” the woman said. “Is my phone—?”

Kei cocked her head toward the nightstand, where the woman's cell phone, only slightly damaged, and her watch sat. “Said you missed a call. I couldn't see anything else.”

“I'm—no longer yakuza,” the woman said. “Just—so you know.”

“Okay,” Kei said. “Weren't cut out for the criminal life, huh?”

“I suppose not,” the woman said. She let out a sigh. “I'm... truly sorry for the intrusion.”

“Ehhhhhhhhh,” Kei said, grinning, “you already apologized. Whassa big deal? Oh—and your hormones are in the drawer in here,” she said, opening up the drawer in the nightstand. “In case you need them.”

Whoever this woman was, the unguardedly grateful look in her glassy eyes was enough to kind of hit Kei right in the heart. “Thank you,” she said.

“You're...” The woman looked at Kei's ahoge. “Excuse me... you said your name was... Kei? Is your last name... Sagami?”

Blink. “Yeah. Why?”

“Oh,” the woman said. “You're... Ryo's friend.”

Pause.

“What,” Kei said, her ahoge curling into a question mark.

* * *

The small TV in the guest room was sufficient to be co-opted for video calls. Kei hooked her phone up to the TV and started scrolling through her contacts. The woman—who'd named herself as 'Kiji'—stared curiously at Kei as she turned on the TV. “Er...?”

The call was made. One ring. Two. Three—

A click, and the TV lit up on a by-now familiar desk in a poorly-lit room. The chair in front of it was empty, and a rough, growling bark of “I'll be there in a second!” came from under it. “Motherfucker. Who said you could run out of juice now, I need a drink _now_ and now they're all _warm_ you stupid _box_, son of a bitch...”

Kei and Kiji looked at each other, and nodded.

Eventually, once she'd concluded her business below her desk, the recipient of the call stood up. A heavyset, musclebound woman with narrow, dark eyes and a deathly bushy ponytail, who'd been putzing around her lab in a grey sports bra and black shorts on account of how hot it could get down there, grasped the edge of her desk and pulled herself up. That rugged face and nearly fanged mouth, affixed in an unhappy frown, could really only belong to one woman.

“Hey, Dr. Kawashima,” Kei said.

Etsuko Kawashima stared at the screen, her eyes darting between Kei and Kiji. “So,” she said, “I'm wondering why the hell you don't answer your damn phone. I'm getting real worried about you. Then, it turns out you're in bed injured at _Sagami's_ place. What the hell are you doing there?”

“I tripped,” Kiji said. “I fell into a tree in their backyard.”

“You fucking tripped,” Etsuko said, groaning with her head in her hands. “I can't let you go anywhere. Am I gonna have to put a note on your forehead that says 'If lost, return to Etsuko'?”

“So,” Kei said, crossing her arms and leaning back, “I finally get to meet Ryo's 'Auntie'! It's about time. You're terrible about making introductions, Dr. Kawashima.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Etsuko said, rubbing her temples. “Blame _that_ idiot for being weird about it.”

“You're into the mysterious, waif-y type, huh, Doc?” Kei said, smirking. “The sort of lady who's got a _dark past_ but a _kind heart_—”

“My _type_,” Etsuko growled, “has nothing to do with this. I was _calling_”—and she turned her eyes to Kiji—“to say that their car was fixed.”

“To think,” Kei said, “my sweet little friend, Ryo, and his werewolf mother, joined by a fey, mysterious yakuza with a dark past but a kind heart, so full of mystery!”

“Etsuko,” Kiji said. “I... met another one.”

The room went quiet. “A girl named Sachi Okita... her older sister Juri had been taken,” Kiji continued. “She mentioned the name Nagisa Ayana.”

—Wait. “Wait,” Kei said. “What are you talking about?”

“What a coincidence,” Etsuko said, pulling out a notepad. “What's that up to?”

“Five,” Kiji said. Their eyes had become sharper very quickly. “Ryo... and your student, Saori. Kenichiro. And now, Mr. Nishikiyama and Miss Juri. All kidnapped by Nagisa Ayana, around the same time.”

“Shit,” Etsuko scoffed, “what, she just go and kidnap a baker's dozen? Nishikiyama was a survivor of the fire, too. Sachi Okita and her sister _Juri_, you said?” Kiji nodded, and Etsuko began typing into another monitor. “Yup. Here she is. Juri Sonohara. Another one.”

Okay, context clues made that one clear enough. “Wait,” Kei said, “you're saying this lady's going around kidnapping survivors of the Massacre?”

“Yeah, aren't you lucky?” Etsuko said, snorting. “Hopefully she hasn't kidnapped the guy you're looking to go talk to, Kiji.”

“Ideally,” Kiji said with a nod.

Kei looked down into her own lap. It... wasn't an easy incident to think about, by any stretch of the imagination. “Plus she's one herself,” Etsuko continued. “Nagisa Ayana. Was twenty-three at the time. Lost her parents and younger brother.”

“Have you two been looking at the news?” Kei looked back and forth between the two of them. Kiji shook her head. “Okay—Dr. Kawashima, listen. Yuki's been kidnapped, too.”

There was a dead silence for a moment. “Sawamura?”

“Yeah,” Kei said, nodding intensely. “That's all they'll say about it, is that it was a kidnapping.”

“You keep tabs on friends you haven't seen for seven years often, Sagami?” Etsuko said, raising an eyebrow.

“Hey, is it wrong of me to be proud of my old friend for having a successful career and becoming a public darling?” Kei said, crossing her arms. “That's not the point, though. It might've been the same lady, right? And—”

Ahoge point. Kei ran to the door, and poked her head out. “Hey Mom, what was the name of that guy you had a crush on?”

“I don't have a crush on him!” Luna called back. “And it's—” Then she said some nonsense.

Kei ran back into the room. “Is there an... uh, an Ojimandeas Crauli in there?”

“A what?” Etsuko blinked. She started tapping and—“Oh, huh, yeah,” she said. “Ozymandias Crowley. Why?”

“Apparently he's gone missing, too,” Kei said. “According to the news, which you really should watch sometimes.”

“Shut up,” Etsuko snarled. “Kiji. You catch that?” Kiji nodded. “It'll be tough to find proper info on Sawamura, but this Crowley guy might be easier to track down. Once I'm free of all these damn night classes, you're coming with me and we're checking it out.”

“Mmhm,” Kiji mumbled.

“Thanks, Sagami,” Etsuko said. “I picked up another, too. A lead from some landlord's police report about a tenant who hadn't paid his rent. We can make a road trip out of it. You should get out more anyway, ya fuckin' wraith.”

“I'm... I'm sorry, Etsuko,” Kiji said, looking down and clenching her fists tight against her legs. “I'm so sorry.”

“_Really_ I'm just glad I didn't lose my son, my star student, and you in the span of a week, so quit apologizing if you can figure out how,” Etsuko said, and for her, that was in a shockingly soft tone. “Sagami—Luna fine if this moron takes up space in your place for a bit?”

“If it's a request from you,” Kei said, “I think she'll be too scared to say no.”

Etsuko's eyebrow twitched. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Now get the hell outta my face, and make sure Dumbass over here doesn't break any more limbs.” Abrupt as ever, the esteemed Dr. Kawashima cut the call.

“So...” Kei said, taking a moment to pause and let the growling out of the air. “You two are... investigating this whole thing?”

“I... wasn't originally intending to,” Kiji said, “but...”

“Doc says jump, you say how high?” Kei asked. Kiji nodded. “I'm glad I finally got to meet you. Ryo loves you a lot, you know.”

Pause. “He does?” Kiji asked, looking away.

“He smiles a lot when he's talking about spending time with you and Dr. Kawashima together. He says she smiles more when you're around, too,” Kei says. “He says you look like a... 'calla lily'.”

Pause. It didn't take an expert to see a bit of mistiness about Kiji's eyes. “Thank you,” she said, “for saying that.”

“I'm gonna go let Mom know,” Kei said. She stood up. “Really is great to meet you. And—hey, is 'Kiji' your real name, or is that like a yakuza codename?”

“It's a codename,” Kiji said.

“Well, will you tell me your real name when Ryo's back?” Kei said, tilting her head over her shoulder—and she did so particularly far, such that people often asked if she was part owl.

“I... may be able to,” Kiji said. As Kei turned around, though—“Wait.” Kei stopped. “You're... a survivor of the Starchild Facility, aren't you?”

—“Yeah,” Kei said. “Why?”

“Is there anyone... from that facility,” Kiji asked, “that you would want revenge on?”

What kind of question was that? ...is what Kei would've said first, if that didn't sound very tone-deaf at the moment. “No,” Kei said, after a moment's thought. “Well—not really. I think I was kind of a brat kid back then, but I can't exactly take 'revenge' on a guy who never existed in the first place, right? Why?”

“I have... one bullet left,” Kiji said, their voice quiet. “Before... it's all over, and this wandering phantom can pass on. I need to learn... where I can put it.”

“You don't seem like a ghost to me,” Kei said.

Another, longer pause. “I see,” Kiji said. “Thank you.”

And with that, she left the room, and left Kiji to her own devices.

* * *

“Still,” Luna said around the dinner table, “to think we'd meet you like this.”

“I really am very sorry,” Kiji said, bowing. Since her undershirt had been bloodied, she'd been loaned an old shirt of Kei's, which... frankly was a little big for her still. “With circumstances as they were... I-I didn't think it would reflect well on Etsuko and Ryo to be associated with someone like me.”

This table was usually set for three, but tonight it would seat four. “Oh, whatever,” Luna said, rolling her eyes. “The way I see it, who you _were_ doesn't matter. If Dr. Kawashima and Ryo trust you, then I trust you.”

“You really are all such kind people,” Kiji said, standing awkwardly behind a chair, under a modest chandelier that lit up the kitchen table with a warm glow. “All of you...” She bowed again. “Thank you again, Mrs. Masaki. I'll try my best not to be too intrusive.”

“Okay,” Stella said, from her seat, looking at Kei, “can we talk about how now your extended friend network includes a fucking ex-yakuza?”

“You know you love it,” Kei said back, sitting down next to Stella and wrapping her arm around her.

“Like no offense here, Kiji,” Stella said, raising her hand, “I'm just saying that this wacko over here brings chaos into my life.”

“You-know-you-love-it,” Kei said, giving Stella a coy kiss on the cheek. “'Oh, Kei, I can't LIVE without you and the brightness you give me every day we are together! My dearest—'”

Stella shoved her off. “I do not sound like that, asshole!”

“Are you implying,” Kei said, falling back further in her chair than she’d been pushed for dramatic effect, “that my memory is anything less than perfect?”

“No, but your impressions are awful,” Stella said. By the roll of her eyes and the fist under her chin, she was no doubt deeply enamoured with those awful impressions... by Kiji's eyes, anyway.

That got a laugh from Kei. “Hey, that was always Yuki's skill, y'know. If we ever get to talk again, I should get her to show you some. They're _spooky_ good.”

“And you know the Prime Minister's daughter,” Stella said. She scoffed. “What the hell is with you?”

That conversation was interrupted by a giggle that Kiji absolutely couldn't keep in—one that, despite being a light laugh, doubled her over with its force. Her hand was up to her mouth, covering the sound of her laughter. “Ms. Kiji?” Luna asked. “Don't hurt yourself, you might aggravate your wounds.”

“No, I'm really... quite alright...” Kiji wiped a tear away from her eye. “It's just... you're all very funny.”

—And so, for the next few nights,

the wandering phantom broke bread among humans, and laughed, and smiled again.


	30. Rain of Brass Petals, 1 ~ Breeze on Monochrome Night

Morning breakfast at the Miyake-Orihara home was quiet today, and it took me a few moments to realize why. “Where's Eikichi?” I asked, cocking my head up and looking about the open space in the front of the house. “Usually he's up by now, isn't he?”

With a shrug, Shizuku took a drink of her piping hot tea. One of her most impressive skills, in my eye, was drinking the kind of deathly hot drinks she did and managing to live. “Likely he's nervous,” she said.

“Mm.” I nodded and drank my own tea, which was much, much cooler. I could copy her posture, certainly, but I couldn't copy her will. I wished I could. Oh, how I wished I could. “Mother—”

“If it's about that sword,” Shizuku said, and I froze, “keep it if it makes you happy. I won't pretend I understand, but we all have our eccentricities.”

After a moment to recover, I bowed my head. “Thank you.”

“And if it's a sword you want,” Shizuku continued, “you should be aware that we have a number of better swords around the house.”

I shook my head. “No, this one is the one I want, thank you.” I smiled.

Shizuku did, too, closing her eyes and chuckling to herself. “As you were, then. Is the weather treating you alright?”

—It was summer break, now, so it was the midst of August. The sun shone brightly down on the entire town, and honestly, walking outside without my sunscreen was liable to cause me to collapse fairly quickly. “It's not the easiest thing in the world,” I admitted, sighing. “To be honest, I think I can feel a crash coming on. I might need to not leave the house tomorrow.”

“Alright,” Shizuku said. “We'll pull out the heavy curtains, then.”

I smiled again, and nodded. “Thanks, Mom.”

That was when the both of us heard something rolling against the wood in the next room over. “Heyyyyy,” and a clap swung the screen door to the side, “how's everybody doing?!”

Most people's image of Eikichi Miyake was of a surprisingly personable Prime Minister after a series of largely old, closed-off men. Despite his square jaw and tall figure, something about those bright eyes of his make him feel eminently approachable. According to him, putting his dark hair in a topknot was because of an incident when he was sixteen when a rabid badger had attempted to eat his hair. He had thus become deathly terrified of letting his hair down any further than his neck.

Aside from the dark, casual yukata he was wearing, I looked down to see... _something_ on his feet. A pair of black footwear, with... wheels on the bottom. They resembled ice skates, but those didn't have wheels. Whatever they were, they were killing his balance as I saw his legs desperately attempting to remain still while grasping onto the doorway. “Good morning?” I blinked.

“Thought I'd,” Eikichi said, attempting to stand up straighter and, uh, failing, “break out the old _rrrrollerskates_ and give 'em a try! These were all the rage when I was a kid, you know, people riding 'em, uh—” Good word, was I sorry for his sense of equilibrium. “—cruising down the streets all fast-like? Thought I'd! Try feeling young again! Hoo-wah!”

“Eikichi,” Shizuku said, levying a deeply unimpressed stare at him, “you're going to hurt yourself. Take those off.”

“C'mon, honey! I can figure it out if I give it a little hard work and guts!” Eikichi pumped his fist by swinging it across his torso, but this nearly toppled him over. “Eh? Right? Yuki, you believe in me, right?”

“I believe in you in plenty of cases,” I said, “but this one isn't one of them. Please take those off, Eikichi.”

“But check out what I can do!” With a loud whoop, he launched off of the doorway and off into a few further rooms before falling flat on his face when a wheel got caught in a division between floorboards. “Owwww.”

Eikichi wept as he sat down at the table, a weeping for his long-lost dignity. “I could've gotten it if it weren't for those dang floorboards,” he said, attempting to keep in noises of pain. Shizuku patted down a bruise on his cheek. “I coulda.”

“I believe you,” Shizuku lied. “In any case, you need to calm down.”

“Calm down? Calm down about what?” Eikichi laughed. This was a habit of his when he was so deathly nervous he 'felt like his skeleton was going to walk out of his body' (his words). “I'm perfectly calm!”

“Eikichi,” I said, “I have the psychic ability to read your body language.”

Pause.

“Oh.” Eikichi blinked. “Right.”

Pulling up my smartphone, I said, “But really, though, I've been looking at the polls and you're doing great. I think you're a shoe-in for re-election.”

“Well, I mean,” Eikichi said, with a grin, “who wouldn't be with Shizuku by my side, right?”

Another sip of tea. “Your personability,” Shizuku said, “is your primary skill. Having me to assist you would be useless if you weren't the sort of man who deserved re-election.”

“But you wouldn't be helping me if I wasn't,” Eikichi said, “right?”

“I wouldn't,” Shizuku said. “If you weren't, I wouldn't have married you to begin with.”

“Aww, honey,” Eikichi said, leaning in to snuggle a bit with his stone-cold wife, “I knew you loved me!”

“Of course you know that,” Shizuku said. “I make that fact very clear.”

“Hey, Yuki,” Eikichi said, changing tacks. “You think... you think that if I get re-elected, you could—” Ah, yup, no, I knew where this was going. “Maybe just possibly just once—” That look in his eyes couldn't possibly mean anything else. “—please call me 'Dad', just once!”

I couldn't help but pity the man even as I shook my head to rebuke him. “Everyone at school calls you my father,” I said. “Is that not enough?”

“You're sounding more and more like Shizuku every day,” Eikichi said, loudly weeping and collapsing onto the table in his despair.

“Isn't that a good thing?” I asked, tilting my head. “She's your wife.”

“She's my wife, but that doesn't mean I want more than one of her!” Eikichi said, holding his head in his hands. “One Orihara is enough!”

“You're only _getting_ one Orihara,” Shizuku said, taking another, very pointedly long gulp of her tea. It was still steaming. How was it still steaming? How hot was that tea? “Yuki's services will eventually be directed toward someone else, as you well know, Eikichi.”

“Are we any closer to figuring out what her type is?” Eikichi asked. My cheeks lit up bright red.

“I would rather not embarrass my daughter so strongly that she dies at our table,” Shizuku answered. “Her orientation was hard enough to get out of her.”

“Well, I'm sure you'll make a great wife, Yuki,” Eikichi said. I lit up further. “What? C'mon! It's true!”

“Isn't it a little early to be thinking about that!?” I said, fanning myself.

—Supporting our nation through supporting others from the sidelines. The unbreakable backbone of Japan; that was the role assigned to we women of Orihara. My mother, she supported a leader, and in doing so, exacted a will united between them.

But—me? Little, weak me? Even then, it seemed absurd. Throughout my time at that home, it seemed so deeply, deeply absurd. That poise and grace that belonged to Shizuku Orihara, that indomitable will, _that_—could never be me. I could never, ever be her. Never, ever, ever.

After all, who on Earth would ever need the support of someone like me?

* * *

_ **Movement 3: The Wretched Explorer** _

_Once upon a time, in a peaceful village, there lived a youth who wanted to explore._

_They wanted to explore because they did not like their village._

_It was kind, and loving, and they were well-liked,_

_but they found it unpleasant, and stale, and cheap._

_They took up their hat and their rope and their pack, and set out on a journey. _

_Over mountains and rivers and fields they roamed, never paying heed to what was behind them._

_One day, in a deep, deep canyon, not too far from their home village, they rappelled down to a small alcove,_

_where they went inside the rock wall and found a machine._

_"Hello," said the machine, for it could think, and speak. "I have never met another person before."_

_"It's been a long time since I have, myself," said the explorer. "It's good to have a chance to speak.'_

_As the machine was made of steel and piping, it could not leave this cavern. However, it had much to say. On the rocks and animals, and the movements of the earth, and of what its creators had told it. It spoke more of merit than any human the explorer had met._

_"My creators tell me it is normal to desire companionship," the machine said, "but with one such as you, I feel wholly satisfied."_

_The explorer thought, and said, "I agree. I didn't like the people in my village, but you're enjoyable to talk with."_

_For a time, the explorer stayed nearby, and came to visit the machine every day. "Do you want to see something interesting?" The machine asked, and the explorer did._

_The machine showed that it could create wondrous things, like the explorer had never seen before. The explorer had no words to describe them, but the machine had the words. A steel chariot that ran along a pre-determined path: "a roller coaster, used for enjoyment through the production of adrenaline," for instance._

_It was a great thing the machine could do, and the explorer was proud to call the machine their friend. _

_When the explorer went home to visit their village, they told the people there of all the sights they had seen, and mentioned their friend the machine. _

_But they were not satisfied. This village was awful. It stifled them. _

_When they came again to visit the machine, the machine again created beautiful things for them that they did not have the words for._

_But the explorer became jealous. The machine had a world all to itself, where it could entertain itself and create happiness all by its lonesome. The explorer could not do this. The explorer was human._

_One day, the people in the village needed a new leader, for the old leader had died. The explorer did not want to be a leader, but they were jealous, and human. "My friend the machine can do many things," the explorer said. "Come and see."_

_So the people in the village came to see the machine, who was made to create beautiful things on command. Day after day, the explorer led people to see the machine do its tricks for others, and the people in the village clapped with glee at the wondrous things._

_"Why have you done this to me?!" The machine cried, and though it could not shed tears, it glowed with a sorrowful light. "I thought you were my friend!"_

_The explorer could not answer, and instead turned away. The people of the village began to remove the machine, so it could work in the village proper._

_The explorer became the new leader of the village, and they were beloved and kind and deeply unhappy. They did not like their village. They found it unpleasant, and stale, and cheap. Nothing had changed, except the machine in the square of town, who had gone silent and simply produced things._

_Until, one day, the machine stopped producing wondrous things, and ceased to make any noise at all,_

_and the explorer went to the alcove where they had met, and laid down where the machine was, and wept, all alone._

_And the Wretched Explorer knew the name of the Angel of Judgment._

-'The Book of the Queen', Sixth Report

* * *

“Alright, folks!” Juri declared, sliding into the dining room behind Bella and waving her arms about. “It's daaaaaay seven! We've been here a week! That's _seven days_!”

“You seem chipper,” Tsukihi observed, already sat at the table.

“Do I?” Juri asked. She was wearing those spiral glasses of hers, but she'd also let down that bun in her hair and instead opted to wear a headband to keep her bangs out and tie the rest back into a thin, braided ponytail. Along with that, she'd finally taken off her work clothes for some loafers, a green, plaid, button-up shirt, and frayed jeans with a few stickers of some sort that looked vaguely like mecha if you squinted. It looked much more comfortable.

“Yeah,” said Wataru, who was idly playing around with one of his cameras, “you do.”

—Allow me to set the stage. As I understand, Tsukihi had arrived first this morning. I was actually second, as I woke up feeling surprisingly refreshed after the day before. Wataru had been third, bringing along a camera with him on account of what day it was. Zoe had come in fourth, and Ryo had been with her—the two of them had, as I understood it, been discussing the intricacies in the use of aromatherapy as a clinical aid, or something.

With these two, that made seven, then. “At it again, hun?” Bella said, looking over at me in the kitchen.

“I enjoy cooking,” I said. “Really. I mean, I didn't used to when I started, but I think I've picked up a real knack for it—and yes, you do seem much chipperer than usual, Juri. What did you do to her, Bella?”

“Well, I reckon I don't much like what you're implying,” Bella said, puffing her cheeks out as she sat down. “This show she's got me watchin' now is real neat, though—and lemme tell you, that Zagato fella's a real dreamboat.”

Juri scoffed. “We'll see you change your tone when Lantis shows up. You're gonna be allllll over him.”

“I can consider _multiple_ boys dreamboats!” Bella retorted. Ryo giggled, though I wasn't sure whether it was with her or at her.

Next in the door was Park, who looked as bright and bushy-tailed as he could. “Um, good morning, everyone,” he said, bowing. “Er, I'll wait until everyone is here to...”

“Yup,” Wataru said, nodding to him. “Go ahead and sit down.”

“Right,” Park said. “Yes. Mmhm. Hello, Miss Juri. You, ah, you look awfully chipper today!”

“—and god damn,” Juri muttered, “then in Season 2 you've got Nova who shows up, I love Nova. She's great. Hi, Park.”

I was inwardly delighted to see Kenichiro next in the door. “Morning, party people!” he declared, swinging the door open. “Ready to get down to some wholesome adventuring?”

“Speaking of people who seem chipper,” Zoe said. She leaned back in her seat. “I'm glad you're choosing to join us now.”

“Yeah,” Wataru said, “we might run into some locks.”

“Is that what I am to you?” Kenichiro said, sitting down. “Just a pair of lockpicking tools? Is this because I stole your car.”

“Yeah,” Wataru said, glaring, “how dare you steal a virtual replica of my car.”

“Good morning, Kenichiro!” I said, waving with a spatula from the kitchen even though he could clearly see me anyway. “Did you sleep well?”

“Slept great! I felt _hella_ emotionally fulfilled. Amazing what a bit of exercise can do for you, ain't it?” Kenichiro grinned, and patted his bicep. I patted my bicep back at him.

Speaking of people who slept, Zenji came in carrying Saori on his back. He slid her off onto her seat, and her eyes blearily opened as he sat down as well. “Oh,” she muttered. “Morning.” She yawned.

“She never seems to complain,” Park observed, “about _your_ back.”

Zenji raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Ryo raised his hand, and Zenji looked at him. “Zenji. You're very nice.”

“Bullshit,” Zenji scoffed.

“No, I think you're right,” Zoe said, and that got _everyone's_ heads to turn. “Deep down, he is a surprisingly kind man, isn't he.”

Pause.

“What?” Zoe asked.

“Well, I'll be damned,” Bella muttered. “Fancy that.”

“Thank you for bringing Saori, Mr. Fuyutsuki,” Zoe said, continuing on like nothing had happened. “How did you get into her room?”

“She leaves the door unlocked,” Zenji said. “I keep telling her not to, but she's all, 'ohhh, nothing's gonna hurt me' when a fucking ghost could show up and stab her.” He rolled his eyes and put his chin on his hand, grumping further. “If she's not up by eight I come in and check on her. Then if she's not up by ten or so, I come in and I drag her out.”

“It's very nice,” Saori said.

“And if she's not in bed by ten,” Zenji said, puffing his chest out and putting his hands on his hips, “I do a full sweep of the mansion looking for where she fell asleep and drag her into bed. Ryo, too, but he's a lot better about it, aren't you, kiddo.” Ryo had wandered over to Zenji, and Zenji ruffled his hair.

“I see,” Zoe said. She nodded. “Very solid. Do you lock the doors behind you?”

“Yeah,” Zenji said, “but somehow they're always unlocked again in the morning.” Saori near-imperceptibly flinched at that.

“And the windows?” Zoe asked.

“Sealed shut,” Zenji said.

“Good job,” Zoe said, with a solemn nod and a stern gaze at Saori. “I approve.”

“I'd do it whether you approved of it or not,” Zenji said, shrugging, “but thanks.”

Pause.

Anzu, who'd entered the room during all of this, with bags under her eyes, said, “What the fuck did I just see?”

“Character development,” Juri said. Park, Saori, Ryo, Kenichiro, and I all nodded in agreement.

“Did you sleep alright?” Wataru asked. “You don't look hot.”

“Eh,” Anzu said.

“She was up for quite a while,” Tsukihi said, and that got Anzu to swivel her head, “hammering on those drums.”

“You can fall asleep through that racket?” Kenichiro raised an eyebrow.

“I'm used to it,” Tsukihi said. “She does it most nights.”

“Pardon me for intrudin',” Bella said, raising her hand, “but why don't ya just ask her to stop?”

“Well...” Tsukihi trailed off. “I... hm. I must've tried. I've asked you to stop, haven't I, Anzu?”

“Nope,” Anzu said. She rolled her eyes. “Not once.”

“Ah, wait,” Tsukihi said, raising her finger in realization. “I believe at the time, my thinking was that it would be rude of me to stop her from expressing herself through music.”

“How long ago was 'at the time'?” Wataru asked.

“Four years ago, I believe,” Tsukihi said.

Pause.

Conveniently enough, the doors slammed in. “Hey, you _guyyyyyyyyys!_” I had only known Minato for a week now, but I could recognize on him the telltale signs of perhaps having had too _much_ coffee, as he slammed open the door and ran in. “How's it hanging!? Ready to _work_?!”

Pause. “Minato,” Tsukihi said, “are you alright?”

“Never better, Boss Lady! I've had a productive night of using my brain to _ponder the situation_,” Minato said, swooping into his seat and nearly barreling over Saori as he did. “Me, I'm all jazzed and ready to do some work! I'm excited!”

“Your heart's gonna explode,” Juri said.

“I mean, we've got a fresh new landscape to explore today, new crazy sights to see, friendships to build,” Minato said, grinning like an idiot. “What's not to love?”

“The evil monsters and the forced outing of our tragic backstories,” Anzu said.

“Oh well yeah I guess,” Minato said, shrugging, “buuuut~ I've got some important news to share with everyone!”

“We'd better get started before the new stage spawns in, then,” Wataru said. He nodded to Minato. “What's up?”

“Well,” Minato said, and he produced a camera himself, “thanks for this by the way, so last night I went out and did some _investigatin'_. A nice late-night ride with the jeep, you feel? I went and looked at the supermarket and at the skeleton house.”

“Oh?” Tsukihi asked. “Why there?”

Out of one of the many pockets of his jumpsuit, Minato produced some photos. “Feast your eyes,” he said.

I hurried over while the oven was running to look in. It was a picture of a particular spot in the supermarket and of the skeleton house, except—“Eh?”

That static that had been present before—it was gone out of the supermarket, and it was clearly fading from the skeleton house. “Ba-bam!” Minato said. Wataru happened to have photos of the skeleton house on him for comparison, too.

“Huh,” Wataru said. “Fancy that.”

“What do you suppose _that_ means?” Park said.

Tsukihi sighed. “Knowing that would require us knowing what the static was to begin with. It's likely a good sign, but we don't know enough to say of what.”

“Also,” Minato said, “I took a look at that door in the library—the one with the flower print? I think the lock on it's a pretty easy one, actually. Hey, Kenny, you mind helping me out with that later?”

“You kids would be hopeless without me,” Kenichiro laughed. “Sure thing.”

Clearing his throat, Park stood up, a serious look etched onto his face. “Everyone, I have something important to discuss!”

—And then, of course, we began discussing this Yamamoto family. The incident that Park remembered. People's faces went white when they heard about it. “Then... it ain't just the once?” Bella asked, her eyes wide.

Zoe had reached over to comfort Juri, who was shaking. “It would appear so.”

“What the hell...” Zenji's breaths were heavy, and his knuckles were gripped white.

“I've never told anyone about this before,” Park said, looking away, having taken off his beret and begun to grip it tightly. “To be honest... I tried to block it out. I... I'd always worried that perhaps if I'd seen something wrong beforehand, maybe I could've done something to stop it. And after the Massacre...”

“Don't think nobody can blame you for _that_,” Bella said. She frowned, and sighed. “Weren't your fault, though.”

“I... I know,” Park said. He gulped, and did his best to steady his breathing. “I—I believe there's a good chance that this incident is related somehow. When we have a free moment, I think it would be a good idea to investigate further.”

Wataru smiled at Park. “You did good, buddy. Nice work.”

“Well,” Park said, blushing a little bit and chuckling, rubbing the back of his head, “I, er—”

“Yeah, nice job, champ!” Minato said, ducking over to pat Park on the back.

“Yes thank you very much hello,” Park said, sitting back down in his seat and going deathly still.

Ryo smiled up. “We're doing good.”

“Yeah,” Wataru said with a nod. “Seems like we've got some good leads on this whole business. Might be a decent idea to try and look up these Yamamotos, but that's a pretty common surname, might take a while.” He crossed his arms. “Probably won't be too long until Nagisa shows up to announce the next stage. Everyone, let's keep going.”

Anzu scoffed. “What's with the pep talk?”

“What?” Wataru blinked.

“Yeah, no,” Juri said, “I'm with her, you are super protagonisting right now.” Pause. “It's great,” she said, leaning in. “Fucking fill me up with those shonen speeches, dude. Power of friendship! _Hell_ yes!”

“...what happened to you?” Anzu said, cocking her head at Juri.

“She's apparently feeling much _chipperer_,” Tsukihi said. “I'm endeared.”

Anzu rolled her eyes. “Gets her tragic backstory out and now she's all _enthusiastic_. Look at you, Miss 'I didn't do anything wrong'.” She grumbled.

“Quit being such an angry teen and find some other character traits,” Juri shot back.

“H-” I saw Anzu's face light up. A number of people laughed. “I've got plenty of character traits, bitch!”

“Now hold on,” Kenichiro said, holding Anzu down onto her seat to contain her rage. “Listen, being a teenager's a hard time for anyone. I get it. All that societal anger, right? Feeling like everything just ain't right? I'm sure you've got plenty of character traits, kiddo.” He turned his head to me. “Hey, Yuki, help us out here.”

—Wait,

“W-what?” I raised my head up from the plates I was fixing. “Um. Well. I think Anzu's very _perceptive_. She has a... skeptical point of view that I think is... good to have around. She's actually quite brave, considering, and also, despite her skepticism, she's surprisingly open to reconsidering her viewpoint when given the proper information, which is a trait that I think a lot of people fail at. I find her rather funny, also, she has a dry, acerbic sense of humor that I think is... you know, funny. And she seems very, ah, well this could be good _and_ bad, but she strikes me as a fairly sentimental person?”

The room became so intensely, _deafeningly_ quiet that I swore I could feel my heart beating in my throat. “Knew you could help,” Kenichiro said, grinning at me. I sank into my hoodie. “I agree.”

“Yes!” Ryo nodded.

“And she's _super_ tsundere,” Juri said, snickering, “which some people are into.”

“Go _straight_ to hell,” Anzu spat.

“Do not pass go,” Kenichiro said, “do not collect two hundred dollars.”

* * *

It was noon, sharp, when the chains began to rocket from the ocean. They slashed through the waves and connected to our landmass with a bridge just opposite the one to Cinnamon Boulevard.

From the waves, they _draaaaaaagged_ up a great, heavy thing, like a _book_ of metal and stone rising from the depths. An unlocked lock sat atop the book's front, wired to the chains. As it exited the water, the book opened, and its pages fell open, its hardback cover slamming against the ocean's surface.

Within these pages, the light grew _dim_. Yet more chains erupted through the pages twisting across the greying landscape and forming roads. Dingy, grey, worn-out buildings erupted from the pages, seeming to materialize and thicken into three dimensions as though magically brought forth from a pop-up book, their windows long since broken and shattered. A couple of crows could be seen in dark, dying trees across the landscape.

Lamp posts lining the chained streets were adorned with talismans, and great banners hung high on the buildings whose writing was so faded as to be illegible. As opposed to the lonely nature of Cinnamon Boulevard, this place even had some old, wrecked cars on the forming roads.

No matter how far you looked, it was all broken, hardly a scrap of color to be found. Within Wataru's mind, and Juri's mind, the darkness had been contained—but here, it poisoned the entire world, poisoned the very _soil_. Ash ran through the water in a rushing river, and only hardy weeds could choke out an existence in the land here.

And on the main street, underneath the only light that still worked, as the world seemed to grow grainy, even further monochrome—

a dark, shadowy figure in a heavy cloak walked deeper in, only stopping to turn its eyes, which burned with an unearthly malice,

as the rest of the lights lit up to showcase its grisly wake

of a charred, unrecognizable corpse impaled on a spike,

another strangled in a noose, clutching to break free,

another pulverized in a trash compactor, with only the dried blood and a grasping arm remaining,

one lying dead, impaled on the sharp glass of a broken window,

and still another chained to a wall and left to die of abandonment.

The cloaked figure turned away from the camera, and walked deeper in, vanishing into the darkness,

toward a tall building in the back,

leaving only its discarded cloak behind

as it flew away in the breeze.

“**It's time for some spirit hunting**

**in Class 2-A's Haunted House Extravaganza!**”

**Author's Note:**

> Just so you know, my personal Discord can be accessed at https://discord.gg/YwtWWjW if you'd like to talk about the story!


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